


Collar Me

by blackchaps



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Collars, M/M, Spanking, Team, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-14
Updated: 2011-10-14
Packaged: 2017-10-24 14:32:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/264571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackchaps/pseuds/blackchaps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney offers John a collar, and John has no idea what to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Collar Me

Beta: Ozsaur and Trillingstar – my ass still hurts from it!  
Disclaimer: SGA isn't mine, damn it.  
Warnings: violence, bdsm, dom/sub, spanking  
Author's Note: A nod of thanks to all those dom/sub writers out there. I started this one after I read Take Off Clothes as Directed because I was curious as to how John and Rodney would get through the whole 'collar' thing.

*********

John stared down at the collar for the longest time before flicking his gaze up. "I'm still a crap sub."

"I want you to be my crap sub." Rodney shoved his chair back and made a small gesture. John knelt before thinking about it. The collar was heavy in his hand, and it was beautiful, but he'd never been in this position, and he wasn't sure what to do. Rodney caught him by the chin. "Will you wear my collar, John?"

John froze, very nervous. "You could have someone good."

"You're good." Rodney seemed to mean that, and it made John's next words so much harder.

"No one will respect me." The truth forced its way out of his mouth even though he hated every word. "They'll say you're in charge of the military now."

Rodney turned him loose. "Not the ones who matter, but I'm not going to argue about it."

Biting his lip, John waited for him to take the collar away. Rodney shifted his chair again, and his gaze went to his laptop. The silence was excruciating, and John didn't know whether to get up and leave or stay down to try to make this right. If that was possible. He always screwed up when it came to this stuff. The collar weighed ten tons in his hand, and he wanted it. He'd only ever wanted one thing as bad and that was flying, which had led him here. The irony left a bad taste in his mouth.

"What should I do?" he asked.

"It's yours." Rodney sighed, shrugging. "Toss it in the ocean, give it to Lorne, throw it out a space gate, but it's yours." He tapped his ear piece. "Radek, are those --? They are? I'll be right there." He stood, touched John on the temple, and hurried out the door.

John thumped his head down on Rodney's chair. "I suck." He banged his head lightly. Rodney was the only one allowed to bruise him, not that he ever did that. Someone might notice, and he'd have to explain, and he avoided that whenever possible. Groaning, he got to his feet and stuffed the collar in his pocket. Rodney would never put it on him now. Tops hated rejection, and Rodney was definitely a top, not a hard one, but a good one.

Anger and resentment drove him out the door, and he almost bumped into Dr. Weir. He apologized five times, careful not to meet her eyes or make the mistake of touching her.

"John, by any chance is Rodney in there? I wanted to have a private word with him."

He flushed, knowing he looked guilty as hell. "McKay went to his lab. He should have his radio on."

"I guess not." She looked him up and down, putting her hands behind her back. "Colonel, you're allowed to have relationships."

"But I don't need it," John lied his very best. He slipped his hand in his pocket and gripped the leather collar. "It wouldn't be good for the base."

Her eyebrows went up. "I think the base could survive you getting laid."

His face managed to get redder, and his tongue felt thick. She glanced pointedly at Rodney's door and said, "But I'm sure you could do better than him."

Irrational anger on Rodney's behalf flooded him, but defending him would confirm that they were seeing each other, and he couldn't do that. He fumbled for a reason to leave. "I have a thing... with..."

"Lorne? To count bullets?"

"Sounds about right." John made sure not to run, but he was feeling it, and he figured she knew it. He wanted to know why Rodney had gone off radio, but that could wait until later. It was his bad luck to turn a corner and see Lorne coming towards him.

"Sir, we need to go over the security rotation." He sounded so sure of himself, so confident, and he oozed dominance. John wasn't in the mood to put up with it. He still couldn't believe that Rodney had suggested giving the collar to Lorne.

"We'll do it tomorrow," John snapped, letting his irritation show. "Excuse me, it's my day off."

Lorne blinked, and his mouth fell open. "Sir? Do you have a problem with me?"

"For treating me like a fragile flower instead of your commanding officer? Why would you think that?" John saw Lorne's blank look become speculation that he'd seen a thousand times before and he upped his glare. Any second Lorne would offer to fuck him happy. John rested his hand near the butt of his gun, knowing it would be noticed. "Go about your duties."

"Yes, sir!" Lorne left frowning, but he was gone, and John went to find some place private where he could throw things. He ended up in the gym, stripped down to BDUs, trying to twirl the bantos sticks fast enough to make them whistle. The collar weighed almost nothing, but he could feel it in his pocket every time he shifted, and he wanted it on his neck.

Shaking his head, he moved into the first movement that Teyla had taught him, wanting perfection and knowing he'd fall short. When it ended, he held the last movement for a second before relaxing his muscles.

"Not bad."

He whirled around, knowing who it was but reacting anyway. Ronon attacked, and they moved around the room. John was mostly running and ducking, using his quickness to dodge most of the blows aimed at his head. Ronon's grin made him smile right up until he missed a crucial block.

"Ow." John stayed down on the mat, and Ronon sat near John's hip. They grinned at each other. "That's gonna leave a mark."

Ronon brought his hand up and nearly touched the side of John's face. "Yeah. You okay?"

"No, but yeah. What's new, huh?" John breathed deeply, Atlantis seemed to spin around him for a second, and then the world settled. It'd been a glancing blow, or he'd be waking up in the infirmary. "You good?"

"Yup." Ronon smoothed his hand down the stick he held. "Mission soon?"

"I hope so." John knew that Ronon grew restless with sedentary life on Atlantis. Even kicking ass all day long wasn't enough to keep him happy. "Teyla?"

"She's ready too." Ronon got up with a grunt and tossed John his water bottle. John caught it, sat up, and found a wall to lean against while he drank and watched Ronon kill imaginary opponents. His face throbbed. Rodney had never hit him like that. John licked his lips and sipped some water.

The door opened, and Teyla strode inside, her skirt swirling. Ronon knelt so fast that John blinked in surprise. Teyla smiled and slipped her finger through Ronon's leather collar. She tugged, and John had to hold his breath from the jolt of longing.

"You shouldn't hit John so hard. He's not ready yet."

"I'll try harder."

Teyla laughed. "John, you should ice that."

"Later." John wasn't too worried. Rodney knew accidents happened when they sparred. She rolled her eyes, fished an ice packet out of her bag, and tossed it to him. He popped it and put it on his face obediently. Ronon kissed the edge of Teyla's skirt, bounded to his feet, and John saw that she was going to put him down hard. They were a well-matched pair, and Ronon loved nothing more than to be thoroughly beaten, which John understood.

Watching them was usually a good way to spend an hour, but the collar twisted into John's leg, and he left them to play. He washed his hands in the communal locker room, running his wet hands through his hair. Feeling looser, more relaxed, he sat on the far bench with the ice pack on his face. He really didn't want Rodney to think anyone else had been bruising him.

He stuck his hand in his pocket and fisted the collar. It was his. He didn't have to wear it. Rodney wouldn't make him. Even if he never wore it, he knew now that Rodney cared enough to offer. That was important right there. Something John had never had before. Hell, he hadn't wanted a collar until Rodney. Leaning his head back, he shut his eyes and tried to picture himself with it around his throat.

"Worst sub ever," he muttered, giving up. He concentrated on the bone-chilling cold on his face, willing away a bruise. It was his day off, and he'd planned to spend it on his knees in front of Rodney. "Damn it."

His entire life would've been so much easier if he'd been born a top, or a switch, or even monosexual, but that was a problem John honestly didn't want. He chuckled at the stupidity of it all. If only he lived in a world where sexual orientation didn't matter – where what mattered was the job and a person's competence.

Maybe he could get a nipple pierced. Rodney might like that. It wouldn't make up for the collar but it would show that John was serious about the relationship, and he was.

His relationship with Rodney was the best he'd ever had, and that brought him back to the collar. Frustrated and angry again, he threw the ice pack in the trash and headed for the armory. It was unfortunate that he had to see people along the way, and the looks he received told him two things: Lorne had a big mouth, and John had fueled the rumor mill with a mark on his face.

Rumors would fly around the base about who had given it to him, and half the gossips would never believe it was Ronon.

Banging his head against the wall was even a worse idea now. He had no doubt that news of his face would reach Rodney before today's planned lunch menu. Stiffening his spine, he raised his head higher and looked them in the eye. Not typical sub behavior, and guaranteed to make tops grind their teeth. They didn't expect subservience, but they wanted subs to glance away after a few seconds. The law of the alphas, and John had learned the rules well. Only Rodney was smart enough to know how stupid they were.

John appreciated Rodney more than he'd ever know, but wearing a collar was asking too much. He could lose everything for… what? Being a house husband here on Atlantis wasn't possible, not that he'd settle for that.

Elizabeth had backed him, forced the military to keep him on as commander. He was no fool. He knew exactly how it had gone down. They'd wanted Caldwell, a top, for Atlantis. John couldn't help but wonder how many people felt cheated that he'd retained this command. He trailed his hand along the wall and let Atlantis fill his thoughts instead of anger.

Walking her hallways soothed him, and he never knew what he'd find. Time slipped away, and he regained his equilibrium even though the collar remained in his pocket.

"What are you doing?" Rodney was never exactly quiet.

Turning, John tilted his head and beckoned Rodney closer. Atlantis pinged again, and he smiled.

"Who gave you that bruise?" Rodney demanded.

John twisted his hand on what looked like a piece of metalwork but wasn't. A door disguised as a wall slid open, and Rodney blurted, "What the hell?"

"It's what I do," John said as they both peeked inside. The lights came on sluggishly, and Rodney would've darted inside if John hadn't put out his hand to stop him. "Me first."

Rodney huffed but waited. John made sure there was no obvious danger before waving him inside. Most of the consoles lit up, and Rodney hurried from one to the other. John laid his hand on a dark one, and it whispered to him.

"You found an --"

"Oceanic lab," John finished for him. "The Ancients were such eggheads." He found something to lean against and watched Rodney's nimble hands and agile mind work. Power shifted through his feet, and he moved to touch Rodney's arm. "That button."

"What? Why?" But Rodney pushed it, and the floor became translucent. John was sure his own eyes were very wide as they stood in - on - the water. Rodney made a funny noise. "I'm seasick already."

John sat down so he didn't feel quite so adrift. Fish swam under him, and he wasn't surprised when Rodney turned it off.

"Okay, that was disturbing," Rodney muttered, and John leaned back on his elbows. Shutting his eyes, he could feel the waves below him. Taking a breath, he let the sensation center him. A tiny click of fingers brought him back, and after glancing at the door to make sure it was shut, he crawled to kneel in front of Rodney.

"I missed a block. Ronon took advantage," John said with no inflection, knowing it was time to tell the truth about his face.

"Everyone says you and Major Lorne had a fight, and he beat you down to your knees, and you liked it." Rodney scowled, sliding his thumb across John's lips. "You need to work on blocking."

"I know." John tried to look contrite. He did have something serious to say. "I'm sorry."

Rodney touched John's teeth with his thumb, letting up almost instantly. "You still want to be mine?"

"I am yours." John knew that. "And you deserve better." He was sure of that. Even if Rodney dumped him, deservedly so, John would always belong to him. "Sorry."

"Give me the collar," Rodney barked, snapping his fingers.

John dug it out, even though his heart rebelled. It was his, damn it. "I would never, ever, give it to Major Lorne."

"I know." Rodney held it for what seemed like forever. "Put out your wrist. The one with the stupid wristband."

Obeying wasn't John's strong suit, but this time, it came naturally. Rodney tugged the wristband further up, and wrapped the collar around John's wrist twice before snapping it shut. It was snug.

"Huh," John said, staring a it and twisting his arm.

"Twice around the wrist, once around the neck. Didn't they teach you anything in flyboy school?" Rodney made sure the collar was latched. "Cover it if you want but take it off, and I'll beat your ass."

"Well, okay." John pushed his palm against his suddenly hard cock. "Thanks."

"Now maybe you'll do what I say in bed." Rodney narrowed his eyes. "Why don't you go shower and wait for me in your room? You smell."

"I can do that." John got to his feet and slid closer. He felt like his head was in the clouds. He'd been collared, sorta, and he needed to be fucked to make it real. "Soon?"

"Very. Go." Rodney waved John away and then slapped him on the ass. John waited until he was in the hallway before pulling the wristband down over the collar. It made it very snug, tight against his skin, and he liked it. In some weird way, he did belong to Rodney. It was more than just a wish now.

Ducking into the mess hall, he made up a plate of snacks. Rodney was always hungry. A couple of people whispered, but he ignored it until he turned to go and found himself face to face with Major Lorne.

"Sir." Lorne looked cautious. He was probably enjoying the rumors.

"Major, are you keeping up your training with Ronon?" John put the force of command behind his question.

Lorne's eyes widened. Before he could do more than open his mouth, John continued, "Schedule time and make sure no one else is slacking off."

"Yes, sir!" Lorne's belated answer had the sound of doom in it. Nodding, John headed for his quarters. Sometimes the best defense was a good offense, and knowing Ronon, Lorne would sport a bruise or two of his own soon.

Putting the food down on the mini-fridge, John went to shower. The leather felt weird around his wrist, and staring at it had the effect of making him hornier than he'd ever been in his life. Clean, he dried off and found some sweats and a T-shirt. He never liked being naked.

It was another one of those stupid assumptions that subs were comfortable naked. Not him. No. He felt vulnerable naked, and he was willing to forgo his uniform, but clothes were a necessity. He did leave off the boxers.

Rodney never yelled at him about it, just stripped him each time. The chime rang, and John got it quickly, wondering why Rodney would ring. Technically, these were Rodney's quarters now. John had given away his body rights by accepting the collar. He shivered and opened the door.

Weir's gaze started at his hair and went all the way down to his bare feet. "It's your day off. I totally forgot."

He couldn't find spit to swallow. "Yes, ma'am. Can I, um, help you?"

Lingering on the tear in his T-shirt, she glanced down to the baggy sweats and licked her lips. "Did you go to the infirmary for that bruise?"

His coat was too far away to put on casually, but he felt like a gazelle in front of a lioness. He knew he was supposed to invite her inside, but he couldn't do it. He moved out into the hallway, forcing her to take a half-step to follow him.

"It's no big deal. Ronon put me on the floor."

She raised her eyebrows, and he wanted to kick himself. He'd made it sound like a sexual adventure instead of a workout. Weir tilted her head, and now she was looking right at his bracelet that was really a collar. "I'm sure you've been put down often enough to know a real injury. My apologies for bothering you on your day off."

He couldn't find words. She was hitting on him, practically ordering him to kneel. "No problem, ma'am."

Weir took a small step and then stopped. "Would you like to join me for dinner and go over a few reports?"

John was sure his cock shriveled up behind his balls. "I'm sorry, Dr. Weir, but I made plans already."

"Maybe some other time." She smiled and left, and he wanted to fall over. He ducked back in his room. The fear that she wanted him kneeling by her desk made him sigh with relief that she was gone. She'd never hinted at a sexual relationship before they'd returned to Earth. Of course, they'd been busy trying to survive the Wraith.

He sat on the edge of his bed, tucking his feet up. If she wanted him, he was screwed. Maybe that had been her plan all along: get him promoted, keep him under her thumb.

"You look wrecked. In a bad way." Rodney shut the door behind him. "Oh, good. Snacks. You treat your top right."

"I try." John stopped biting his lower lip and mentally locked his door. "Did Dr. Weir catch up with you earlier?"

Rodney sat down in the chair in front of John's laptop, still picking at the food. "She was here?"

"She was at your quarters when I left." John didn't exactly lie. "She said you were off radio."

"For about twenty minutes, but no, she didn't. Did she happen to say if it was important?" Rodney studied him. "Seriously, you look upset."

"I'm fine. Face hurts, and no, she didn't say what it was. Did the marine biologists have spontaneous orgasms?" John tried to smile.

Rodney grinned. "Two of them started making out on the floor when I turned it on." He rolled his eyes. "Morons."

"Yeah." John thought he had to be the dumbest of them all. He looked down at his bracelet-collar and tried not to let his worry show.

"Nothing has really changed, except now I will hurt anyone who hits on you." Rodney walked to him and wrapped his hand around the back of John's neck. "Lean on me and breathe. No one hits on you, right?"

John tucked his face between Rodney's T-shirt and jacket. It felt safe in there. "Trust me, no one wants me except you."

Rodney stroked John's face. "You're wrong, so wrong. You don't see how the tops and half the subs look at you."

"You can't defend me. You know that?" John gasped when Rodney tightened his hold on him. "I wish you could, but I can't be owned and keep my job." He couldn't see Rodney's face but he heard the annoyed chuff. "Sorry."

"You've said that too many times today," Rodney snapped. "I knew what I was getting into when I offered it, but I wanted you to know that... that I'm serious about being with you."

A jumble of emotions blew through John, gratitude being uppermost, and he couldn't think of what to say. Also, it was kinda hard to breathe.

"God, I broke you. Take a deep breath, John, and we'll have sex." Rodney peeled off John's shirt. "I'd like to see you in nothing but my collar, even if it is on your wrist."

That sounded good, and everything else could wait until later, much later. John tried to get to his feet with some grace, but he knew his lack of training showed. Rodney slipped his hands inside John's sweats and cupped his bare ass.

"What do you need, John?" Rodney asked, mouthing John's neck and collarbone.

It had taken a long time for John to accept the talking part of their dynamic. Sometimes Rodney took what he wanted, but occasionally he asked, and then he might do it, but no guarantees. One thing John did know was that if he didn't answer, he wouldn't get any sex at all.

Rodney squeezed John's ass, not too hard, not yet. "You better be thinking."

John groaned when Rodney kissed him. Rodney pushed the sweats down, and John looked for permission before stepping out of them and nudging them away. Rodney skimmed his hands up and down and around John's ass, and John felt like melting into the floor.

"I need words," Rodney said in John's ear. "You know I like words."

"My worst thing." John tried looking pitiful, but he could see it wasn't going to fly tonight. "I want..."

Rodney poked him in the stomach. "Speak!"

"Stuff." John slithered down and mouthed Rodney's hard cock through his khakis. "Lots and lots of stuff."

"I saddled myself with a moron." Rodney sighed and stroked his hand through John's hair. He thumbed the bruise on John's face. "I want to mark you."

John's mouth dropped open. That was the last thing he'd ever expected to hear. Rodney didn't like pain, giving or receiving. Bondage, yes. Pain that actually hurt? No.

"And I want you to tell me where and how." Rodney pushed harder on the bruise until John let out a tiny gasp. "This bruise isn't mine. However, I'm not going to complain to Ronon about it because I like my liver inside my body."

"I was thinking of you when he hit me." John managed to get his mouth working. He tried to grin in a naughty way. "Felt good."

Rolling his eyes, Rodney flicked John's ear. "Even if you wore that collar with a huge flashing neon sign, no one would ever believe it. You reek of insolence."

"You like me that way, and I've worn a collar before." John regretted saying that because Rodney's eyes widened and then hardened into little chips of blue glass.

"I'm not the first?" Rodney sounded both angry and hurt, a combination that tore at John.

John grabbed him around the waist. "You're the first. The only. I bought the collar myself. Wore it on a duty post. I thought it would solve my problems, but all it did was make it worse. My commander wouldn't give me any of the dangerous missions because he thought my top would get angry."

Now Rodney frowned, but the hurt was gone. "John, that was stupid. I mean, really dumb."

"I was sick of kneeling for my orders and being told that a sub like me was too beautiful to fly combat missions." Even John could hear the anger in his voice. "You don't know what it's like."

"Well, that's for sure." Rodney leaned enough to kiss John's forehead. "Beautiful?"

Gentling his grip, John shrugged. "I stopped going to the spa after that."

"For some reason, I believe you." Rodney wiggled enough to get loose and headed for the food.

John waited while Rodney ate a few bites. A click of fingers, and he crawled to Rodney, accepting a treat from his hand.

The silence wasn't angry, but John had been talking far too much. Shutting up was always a good idea. Rodney fed him another bite. "Okay, so I really don't care if people hit on you. You can handle that. And Ronon can beat you up all you want. I'm not one of those crazy, possessive tops."

"Oh, goodie." John wasn't sure he believed a word of that. A collar would change them, push their relationship in a new direction, and the idea made his stomach hurt.

"But, John, I'm serious here. You're _my_ sub," Rodney growled, "and if Dr. Weir wants you to kneel, I'm going to take that collar off your wrist and wrap it around your throat. Then we'll deal with the fallout together."

The force of those words stunned John enough that he said the first words that came to him. "And if I won't let you collar me?"

"Like I said, we'll deal with the fallout." Rodney opened John's mini-fridge and snagged a beer. He opened it up and gave them both a drink. "I--" He looked away and then back. "I care too much to stand by and watch you be humiliated."

Dropping his head down, John rubbed his face hard. "I wouldn't do it. She's my boss, not my top, and I do have rights. I, just, in the past, it didn't seem worth complaining about."

"And now?" Rodney traced a cool finger along John's collarbones.

"I care too much." John echoed Rodney's words intentionally. "I'll be a good sub, I promise."

"Um, yeah. John, I don't expect that." Rodney took a long drink, and John was glad their eye contact was broken. Of course Rodney didn't expect it. He knew John was a crappy sub.

"Pierce my nipple for me. Mark me that way." John hurried out the words before he changed his mind. "Please."

The beer bottle came back, and John took the offered drink. Rodney caught him by the chin. "Those take months to heal properly, if they don't get infected. So, no."

Disappointed and relieved, John shifted on his knees, desperately trying to come up with something. He wrapped his hand around Rodney's. "Cane?"

A deep flinch, and Rodney shook his head. "I don't do that. Keep thinking." He put the beer in John's hands and moved to the bed. Toeing off his shoes, he sat down. "I've often wondered if you would leave me for someone who wants to hurt you."

It was John's turn to flinch. Worried at the way this conversation was going, he tried for humor. "You do your best. What more can I ask?"

"A lot," Rodney said. "I'll try harder to make you ache."

It was enough of a promise to make John groan. He drained the beer, tucked the bottle in the trash, and went to him. "Now you're scaring me."

Spreading his hands, Rodney looked almost sad. "I don't like hurting you. How many times have you been in the infirmary these last six months? Three, by my count, and that should be enough pain for anyone."

"Yeah, it was no fun." John was amazed that Rodney was discussing this. Maybe it was the effect of the collar. He stroked his hands down Rodney's thighs. "You're the only lover I want." He hoped it was the right thing to say.

"My sister used to say I couldn't be a top because I was too nice, too weak, too, well, you know." He waved his hand.

John had to laugh. "Has she seen you terrorize an entire lab of people? There isn't a top on Atlantis who isn't scared of you."

Rodney encircled John's wrists with his hands. "You say the nicest things."

They laughed together, and Rodney let go of him. Without asking, John brought his hands up to ease off Rodney's jacket. A permanent marker dropped out of a pocket to hit the floor, and John scooped it up.

"Red is your favorite color," John teased, putting Rodney's jacket on the chair.

"It's expressive." Rodney might've smiled. "You are beautiful."

"Oh, shut up." John looked down at the marker, and it gave him an idea. He knelt again and held it up. "Mark me. Wherever you want."

Rodney's eyes went very round, and his hand might've trembled a little as he took the marker. "I didn't mean to get all maudlin tonight. I was trying for assertive and bossy."

"A collaring is always emotional." John had read that somewhere. "I've talked so much that my throat hurts."

"Not yet, but it might later," Rodney growled, and John breathed harder as he stood up.

"Mark me as yours," John said, wanting it.

"I will." Rodney kissed John's hip. "In several languages." He stuck the marker in the corner of his mouth like he always did and furrowed his brow. John had the feeling that Rodney was making a plan, and that could be good or bad. He stood still, pliant, turning when Rodney pushed him around. Rodney fondled John's ass, sliding a finger over John's hole. Whimpering, John spread his legs wider.

"Need lube." Rodney nudged him on the ass. John reached, snagged it out of the drawer, and handed it back. Slick fingers traced across him, and he resisted the urge to stare over his shoulder. He'd stand there and be good for a change. He made a strangled noise when Rodney pushed a finger inside. Rodney licked him right above the finger, and John nearly lost control and came on the floor. He felt like he'd been hard for hours.

Making a humming noise, Rodney pulled out and immediately went back with two fingers. It burned, stretched, and John remembered it had been at least a week since they'd had sex, and that had been a blowjob. Rodney loved blowjobs, and John didn't mind pampering him with one that lasted long enough to make his jaw ache.

"You're tight," Rodney said. He licked his way up John's back until he was standing. John offered his lips, glad when Rodney took advantage. Two fingers moved in and out of him in rhythm with Rodney's tongue, and John felt his knees get weak.

The marker prodded John in the ass, and they both grinned. Rodney pulled his fingers out, making John moan.

"Undress me." Rodney caressed the leather collar on John's wrist. John did all the work, laughing twice when the marker poked him in sensitive places. When they were both naked, he wanted to spend some time on his knees. Rodney shook his head. "Wait." He stretched out on the bed and crooked his finger.

John flowed over him, and Rodney's eyes were bright with plans. Rodney cupped John's ass and guided him down. It was tight, even with the lube, and John had to take several deep breaths when his ass rested on Rodney's thighs.

"Hold perfectly still." Rodney's voice was firm and his hands were busy fondling John's chest. "I should've shaved you."

"We can still do that." John managed to say, full of cock and wanting to move. When the tip of the marker finally touched him, he held his breath. For some stupid reason, he'd expected nothing more than 'Property of Dr. Rodney McKay' written on every inch of skin, but he'd forgotten that Rodney loved to create, and right now, he was using John's skin as a canvas.

"No wiggling, or I'll spank you."

"Oh, God." John clenched his ass muscles, weathering the glare. "We should do that."

"Not now!" Rodney ignored John's arms and hands, concentrating on his chest, belly, and groin. "I won't spank you for a month, if you don't hold still!"

John froze. Now that was a threat. He tried to follow the loops, spirals, and swirls that Rodney put on him, but all he wanted to do was fuck.

"This is torture!" John blurted. The scritch of the marker against his skin stopped.

"Off," Rodney snapped. John whined as he lifted himself. He almost apologized, but Rodney put John on his back, and he spread his legs. Rodney surveyed him as if he were a blueprint. "Arms over your head."

That was promising, and Rodney shoved his cock full in with one stroke. John jerked and lifted up into it. Rodney tapped him on the nose with the marker. "Don't move even a millimeter."

"Fuck." John felt a whine growing deep in his throat. Rodney used his hips to push him back on his shoulders, looming over him. The marker moved along the underside of his arms, and John could see the concentration on Rodney's face. They were close enough to kiss, but Rodney's attention was elsewhere, and John didn't move. Rodney liked things perfect.

Rodney pulled back and capped the marker. His eyes met John's. "Better." He pumped his hips twice, and John clutched air. He needed about an hour of that. Rodney kissed him, long and lots of tongue the way John liked it.

"Roll over." Rodney abruptly pulled away and out of him.

It took a minute for the words to register, and then John had a hard time moving. Rodney rolled his eyes. "I knew that collar wouldn't make you more obedient. John. Roll. Over."

"I'm going!" John flipped over as fast as possible, feeling awkward, wishing yet again that he had some training. Rodney's hands positioned him, and he realized the person gasping for air was him. "I need you." He was ashamed to say it.

"I need this."

John jerked when the marker touched the sole of his foot. A forceful spank on his ass, and he wished he'd picked something else, anything else, for this whole marking thing. If he started whining and moaning, he was never going to stop. He clamped his mouth around the noise. Rodney scooted his hand up John's leg and then pulled John's cock back so it pointed towards his feet. It was uncomfortable, but John knew better than to raise his hips.

After what seemed like a year or two, Rodney slid up and shoved his cock deep in John's ass. John couldn't help but cry out, broken now, beyond embarrassment and shame. Rodney kissed the back of John's neck. "Shut your eyes and hold very still."

"Please, please," John whimpered, but he forced his muscles to passivity as the marker worked on his shoulders. He tried to focus on breathing, feeling as if he'd run a marathon from holding still. He dropped deeper into himself, aware only of the marker, feeling it to his bones. He was Rodney's now and maybe forever. It wouldn't be easy, but it would be his, and he needed. He needed Rodney so much.

"Now you've got it," Rodney said, flexing his cock. "Focus on me."

The marker dragged over his skin, and John let his mouth ramble on about 'please' and 'damn' and 'help' and all those words that Rodney liked to ignore. Each deliberate stroke, mixed with the throb of Rodney's cock, drove him until he was nothing but a blank page for Rodney to fill up.

They changed positions twice more, and John began to think he'd die before Rodney was done. Looking over his body, he saw twists and spirals, words and equations pressing into him, owning him. Rodney kissed him, sliding deeper and finally moving in one continuous rhythm. A strong hand wrapped around the collar on his wrist, and John arched his back, desperate for more, harder.

"Don't forget you're mine." Rodney bit John's neck. "Come for me."

Gasping, John orgasmed before the sentence finished. Rodney fucked him through it, and he was pretty sure he'd blacked out for a few seconds. When things became clearer, he looked up into Rodney's laughing eyes.

"Did I miss a command?" John did that a lot.

"Just two or three." Rodney thumbed John's nipples. "I put a stargate around your--"

John jerked up, afterglow blown away, scrambling to see. "I need a mirror!"

"I'll be taking my puddle jumper through that stargate as often as possible." Rodney laughed and swatted him on the ass. John stopping trying to look and contented himself with biting Rodney's nipples until there was squirming. More spanks on the ass didn't deter him. Rodney tapped John on the forehead. "Fine. I'll spank your stargate. Get across my lap."

When Rodney sat up, John moved fast, not hiding his eagerness, draping himself over Rodney's lap. "You can do it hard."

"You always say that, John. I know you like it hard. I'd prefer if you didn't spend the next forty years reminding me!" Rodney gave him a good spank.

John swallowed hard, contemplating forty more years. "I can do that."

"Good." Tilting his head, Rodney nodded. "I really could've been an artist, but it would've been incredibly dull. I did win a prize in third grade at the art fair." His hand came down in a manner that could not be described as hard. "I like this look on you. Anyone seeing you naked would know who owns you."

The idea of everyone knowing made John groan with desire and bite back a moan of despair. He wanted that, but it wasn't possible. Usually during a spanking, he demanded more and harder, but he wouldn't tonight. Rodney was in charge, and John was perfectly happy being submissive. It was the first time Rodney had taken him so deep, and he loved it. He loved Rodney.

"I'm very... red." John licked his lips and tried to say something appreciative. "I like it."

"We'll see what you say in the morning." Rodney started a rhythm, and it wasn't hard by any means, but he hit the same spots consistently. John, deep in his headspace, started moaning before his ass cheeks grew red. Rodney didn't stop, but he didn't spank any harder. "More, John?"

The question made no sense. John lifted his head, feeling too dazed to do more than stare. "You."

"I've reduced you to one word sentences. Very interesting." Rodney tilted his head. "I'll stop when I'm done."

John thumped his head back down on the mattress. "Yeah."

The inside of John's mouth grew dry from panting as Rodney's hand came down again and again. He didn't even know it was over until he heard a whispered command. He obeyed instantly, kneeling on the floor. His ass burned, and he loved it. He could hear Rodney in the bathroom, but not see him, and he listened closely, praying for a finger click so he could be with him again.

Rodney stepped around him, munching a cracker from the tray, laptop in hand, and arranged the pillows before leaning back near Johnny Cash. "Suck me."

Scrambling to get to Rodney's cock, John paused in confusion when his arm was pulled. Rodney put John's hand on his stomach. "I want to feel the collar while you suck."

John wasted no time sucking him deep. Rodney's attention was on the screen so John played, relaxing into tongue swirls and long sucks that hollowed his cheeks. Rodney petted him occasionally, humming over whatever he was looking at and making sounds of discontent. John was fairly sure the upset wasn't over him.

"Idiots." Rodney shifted his hips. "When your jaw gets tired, tell me."

"Sure." John licked down and sucked one of Rodney's balls into his mouth. Rodney grunted and moved his legs, and John took that as permission to nuzzle lower in hopes of rimming him.

"If you don't stop, I'm going to have to shift to my stomach." Rodney caught one of John's ears and pulled. John was more than willing to go back to sucking Rodney's cock.

When Rodney shut the laptop with a click, John looked up to see a smug smile. He ducked his head, and Rodney said, "Get dressed. I need real food."

"Casual or uniform?" John gave him one last lick before getting off the bed. He helped Rodney get dressed and knelt for his next command. Rodney stared down at him and then rolled his eyes.

"Forget it. Anyone that sees you will know you're so deep you can barely function." He cupped the side of John's face. "Stay here. Stay naked. Okay?"

John protested before he could stop himself. "I want to go with you."

"Not a good idea. Your eyes are glazed over from sex, and your hair is insane."

"Crap," John muttered, unable to find an argument. "I'll kneel here until you're back."

"No. Go lie on the bed." Rodney snapped his fingers and pointed. John hurried to the bed. He didn't look as Rodney left the room, and the temptation to pull the covers over his body was terrible, but he couldn't ruin the evening. Rodney wanted him naked. John hadn't known he could fall this far for Rodney, and tomorrow, he'd have to pretend no one owned him when all he'd want to do was kneel by Rodney's leg and be hand fed.

"Damn it."

Curling on his side to get off his hot ass, he studied the signs, whorls, and words on his forearms. That was definitely an equation on jumper propulsion systems, not that he'd admit he knew what it was. There was the Ancient word for 'honor,' and it made him blush. The blush was driven away two seconds later when he saw the French word for 'fool' on his other arm. That made him laugh. Rolling to his stomach, he tucked the pillow under his chin. He fell asleep like that.

Hands spreading his ass cheeks woke him up, and he made damn sure it was Rodney before tilting his hips up. Rodney bit him on the back. "I thought I could resist, but you were lying there, covered in my words, my equations." He surged forward, and John scrabbled to grab the mattress for support.

"Take it, John." Rodney pulled him until he was mostly in Rodney's lap. John leaned his head back onto Rodney's shoulder, gasping for air. He knew he was making an incredible amount of noise, but for once, he didn't care.

Rodney curled one hand around John's throat and the other around John's cock. "So submissive tonight," he whispered in John's ear.

John could only whimper. His vocabulary had given up. He felt like an offering to Rodney's cock, being taken and loving it. From that moment on, he drifted, lost in submission, unable to demand or want anything for himself. If Rodney had paraded him through the mess hall on his knees, he wouldn't have noticed.

*********

Incessant beeping woke him up, and he reached for Rodney before thinking. A note crinkled under John's hand, and he put it in front of his face.

Went to lab. RM

John groaned and rolled to his back. He ached physically, mentally, and he wanted Rodney in a bad way. Hunting him down and kneeling in front of him sounded like a fine idea.

Banging on his door brought him back to reality, and he went to answer it. Ronon barked a laugh, and John panicked, yanking him inside.

"Red is a good color," Ronon said.

"Don't tell anyone!" John was sure his voice was an entire octave higher than usual. "I forgot!"

"We gonna run? You gonna put clothes on?"

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." John did not feel like running anywhere but right to Rodney's lap, and that was seriously wrong. He dragged on sweats, having to add socks that he hated because there were prime numbers on his ankles and a long-sleeved shirt to hide the Ancient on his forearms.

"You're gonna pass out," Ronon said.

"What else can I do?" John snarled. He swiped his hand through his hair and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. After putting on his running shoes, he tucked his radio into his ear. "If I pass out, do not take me to the infirmary."

"No problem." Ronon slapped him on the shoulder. "Congratulations."

"We're not discussing this." John palmed the door open and made sure his collar was tight on his wrist. He pushed his ache for Rodney as far away as possible, but it didn't go near far enough. Ronon led the way out to the balcony where they stretched.

"Nice work. Permanent?"

"No." John cringed as he calculated the number of days it'd take for it all to disappear. If Rodney came at him again with a marker, he'd be helpless to resist. "I am so screwed."

"You look it."

"Not another word." John cut short his stretches and started jogging on ahead. Ronon would catch up without breaking a sweat. John wasn't that worried about Ronon telling any of the military about Rodney's red scribbling, but Teyla would know before the day was over. He trusted her, but it was hard not to believe that bad things were coming his way, and all because he'd finally been claimed, marked, taken down to ground level.

Ronon jogged up alongside. "Your ass hurts, huh?"

"No!" John protested, wishing he could actually run fast enough to get away from Ronon. He took a deep breath. "Okay, a little." His ass did twinge, and he could only pray that Ronon would be the only one to notice. "Now, shut up, and let's run."

"Waiting on you."

John pushed himself until his clothes were sodden with sweat and his body was near collapse. Ronon looked at him like he was crazy when he staggered back to his room, but he didn't care. His radio clicked almost the instant he walked through his door.

"Colonel Sheppard, have you forgotten our meeting?"

He slapped himself upside the head. "No, ma'am. Ronon and I ran a little farther than normal. Be there in ten minutes?"

"That'll be fine. Do shower." Weir clicked off.

The shower eased away the trembles in his legs, but he couldn't help but notice that soap didn't affect that red marker very much. He dressed carefully, hiding the marks and putting his wristband over his collar. The errant thought that Rodney could never leash him popped up, but he put it away. Rodney would never do that anyway. He was too busy working.

At seven minutes, John combed his hair with his fingers as he walked out of his quarters, hurrying to the transporter. He buckled down his gun, ignored Chuck's look, and went into the conference room.

"Sorry," he apologized, sliding into his chair and realizing his tablet was in his office. Weir looked at Lorne, who looked at Carson, who glanced at Zelenka, and then John got the message. "Where's Rodney?"

"We thought you would know," Zelenka said.

John really didn't want to hear that. "Rodney, where the hell are you?" he growled into his headset.

"Is that thing now?"

"No, it was ten minutes ago." John pointed at Zelenka after clicking off. "Why didn't you bring him?"

"He was in jumper bay." Zelenka shrugged. "Then he wasn't, and I came here."

Weir rubbed her forehead with both hands. "You have time to get your tablet, John."

"Okay then." John didn't stick around to see everyone roll their eyes. He double-timed it to his office, grabbed up his tablet, and still managed to get back before Rodney wandered in the meeting with a cup of coffee in his hand.

Rodney waved his hand. "If we didn't have meetings constantly, I'd be on time more often."

"I doubt it." Weir glared at them all.

Booting up his tablet, John fought to not stare at Rodney, stay calm, and pay enough attention to keep her happy. He knew the IOA was busting her... balls lately, but there was no way that he, or anyone else, was going to follow all the new rules and regulations that were being thrown at them.

Dutifully, he made notes, wondering how Teyla had been lucky enough to get out of this meeting. Weir droned on and on until everyone looked blurry eyed, and Carson even yawned. John made sure not to shift on his ass, but it was sore. The meeting took so long he began to think he'd have to take a nap under the table.

"If there's anything else?" she asked.

"Lord, no." Carson practically ran from the room.

Lorne laughed softly. "I think my butt's asleep."

"Colonel, I expect all new regulations to be implemented."

"I'll get right on that." John tried to smile pleasantly. He eased to his feet, stretched, and bumped right into Rodney, who'd begun a spirited argument with Zelenka in at least two languages over whose turn it was to oversee the repairs to the sanitation system.

Rodney whipped around, and John saw the marker coming but didn't move an inch. In fact, he locked his knees so he didn't drop to ask for more. It didn't hurt as it left a red slash down his cheek, and he was tempted to smile.

"Colonel, I'm sorry. Seriously." Rodney put on very fake, wide eyes for everyone to see.

"Just be more careful with that marker in the future." John didn't bother to wipe his face. He backed up until he was out of range. "Geeks with markers are dangerous."

"Gotta learn to duck," Lorne said. "Are we going over the security schedule now?"

"Might as well," John drawled. He looked right at Weir. "My lady?"

"You're dismissed." She waved at the door. "But someone get me coffee!"

"Rodney, you heard the lady," John said with enough force to let Rodney know it wasn't an option.

Rodney groaned dramatically, but he'd do it. Zelenka smirked, and the argument moved into stargate command. John stretched again and wished he could rub his ass. Lorne sidled up next to him.

"Mess hall balcony, fifteen minutes," John said.

"I'll be there." Lorne strutted away, and John went to the nearest public restroom to check his face. Rodney had managed to mark him in a perfect slash down his cheek. It looked ridiculous, and he sighed. He'd created a monster by handing Rodney a marker. John had a bruise on one side of his face, and a red slash on the other. He looked damn odd, and people were going to laugh. That was a given.

Staring in the mirror, John wasn't sure he could do this today. He needed things other than drills, schedules, and weapons practice. After rubbing his ass, he took care of business and washed up. Fighting the urge to go back to bed, he went to the mess hall to get some breakfast and meet with Lorne. Rodney was at a table with a bunch of scientists, and half of them snickered, and John had no trouble deciphering Rodney's quick glance. Triumph.

John schooled his face to show nothing, but he had to admire Rodney's cleverness. Rodney had wanted to publicly mark him, and he'd found a way to do it, sneaky bastard. Across the hall, one of his corporals was kneeling for his top, being petted, and John made sure not to stare longer than two seconds.

Taking his tray and tablet out to the balcony, he decided not to sit until Lorne got there. Instead, he put his stuff down and went to the rail to stare out at his city. The sun was up, and it was another gorgeous day.

"My apologies again, Colonel."

From Rodney's tone, someone was close enough to hear. John only turned halfway. "Accidents happen." He cocked his hip and leaned over the railing. There were other things he wanted to say, do, so he looked out over the ocean to keep from doing any of it.

"Well, then. As long as you're not mad?"

"No." John didn't look at him. That would be too tempting. Rodney made a funny noise, and then John heard him walk away.

Lorne's voice was the next thing John heard. "Hey, don't be too hard on the guy. He's clumsy."

John went to his chair, made sure not to wince, and started eating. Rodney was not clumsy, not often, but that was an off-limits topic. "What I really want to know is how Teyla managed to get out of that meeting."

"Heard she had an Athosian council meeting on the mainland. Stackhouse took her."

Anger flicked through him. "As commander, I'm informed when the jumpers are used."

"You were off radio. Jogging with Ronon?" Lorne smiled.

"Bullshit. I had it with me," John rapped out. "If you can't follow procedures, I'll request a second-in-command who can." He looked Lorne right in the eye. "Do you understand, Major?"

"I do, sir." Lorne narrowed his eyes, not looking away. "Perhaps it's the fact that you play so often with Ronon that makes me think you'd rather not be bothered with operational details."

"Perhaps you need to focus on doing your job correctly." John shoved his chair back, picking up his tray and tablet. "I'll be in my office. Join me when you can pull your head out of your ass."

"Yes, sir." Lorne took another bite, insolent bastard. John left him, feeling the tendrils of command slipping away. Several people got the hell out of his way, and he made it to his office without anyone snickering at him.

Jaw clenched, but he forced himself to sit down at his desk and eat his lunch. It was all going to shit. Any halfway decent pilot recognized when he was headed for a crash landing.

Weir wanted him as a sub.

Lorne wanted John's job, and probably John on his knees.

Rodney wanted John to wear a collar and be a good sub. Oh, yeah, it was all going to shit, and he didn't see much he could do to change it.

"Colonel Sheppard, just received a message from the Daedalus. They're one day out."

"Thanks, Chuck." John went ahead and scrubbed his face with his hands. Yup. He was going down in flames. The food was unappetizing now, but he ate anyway, mechanically, until most of it was gone. Shoving the tray to the front of his desk, he began working on requisitions and schedules. He ignored the ache in his ass.

When he had things under control, he took his tablet and prowled the hallways. It was time to remind everyone in his command that he was the sub who had killed sixty Genii and that Major Lorne had been in this galaxy for a couple of months. He also made the security teams aware of the new oceanic lab before stopping at the firing range to kill some paper targets.

Very rarely did he practice around the Marines, but he needed to reinforce the fact that he'd earned the right to keep this command. He was sure they got the message after he unloaded his clip into nothing but the heads of the silhouettes.

He smiled. "We have twenty newbies coming in on the Daedalus. Make sure they get all the special training that only comes from Atlantis' finest."

"We can do that, sir." Sergeant Richter's eyes were wide. "We heard McKay's been giving you a hard time."

"He's all right, just geeky. Now Ronon, on the other hand, I owe him one." John rubbed the bruise on his face. "But Teyla really scares me."

There were several nods, and he had a bad feeling that Teyla had been abandoned on the mainland because she should've been back by now. "Sergeant Stackhouse, meet me in the jumper bay," he growled into his headset. By the looks he got, he could tell that Lorne couldn't keep his mouth shut about anything.

"On my way, sir."

Holstering his gun with a full clip, John had a parting bit of advice. "Head shots usually put the Wraith down for good. Usually."

"Got it, sir."

He looked them over one last time before heading to Stargate Command and the jumper bay. Being on duty in the gateroom was boring but necessary, and his teams were alert. Before he could walk up the main stairs, Lorne caught up with him.

"I thought we were going over rosters?" Lorne demanded.

John met him full-on, clenching his jaw. Dressing him down in the gateroom wasn't John's style, but he was the commander of this base, and Lorne needed to learn that lesson now.

"We do the scheduling at my convenience, not yours. New assignments are posted. Read them." John saw Lorne's surprise shift to chagrin. "Right now, I have to retrieve Teyla from the mainland where your incompetence stranded her before an off-world mission. Scheduling is obviously not your strong suit."

Lorne swallowed hard, probably only now realizing that it was not a good idea to piss off his subby CO. "Yes, sir," he ground out.

"You're dismissed, Major." John kept eye contact until Lorne looked down first. Lorne glanced around as if looking for support, but no one met his eyes. John took one step on the main stairs, but he didn't make the mistake of turning his back. Lorne tried to leave with some dignity, and John watched him go, unsure if it was worth trying to teach Lorne that subs could command, especially in the Pegasus galaxy.

Everyone in the entire gateroom seemed to be holding their breath as he climbed the stairs. Weir met him there, and of course, she'd been listening.

"Colonel, I would never presume to tell you how to run your command --"

"Good," John interrupted, refusing to lose any ground he'd gained today. "Because riding herd on a bunch of Marines and pilots is way beneath your pay grade. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to discipline Sergeant Stackhouse."

The expression on her face went through a quick barrage of emotions before it smoothed into banality. "I'm sure you have it under control."

"Yes, I do." He marched to the jumper bay. Stackhouse snapped to attention so hard that he might've hurt his spine. John stopped in front of him and let him sweat for a full minute. "Sergeant."

"I screwed up, sir."

"You did, and you know why?" John turned up the heat of his glare.

Stackhouse licked his lips and nodded. "Because the jumpers are yours."

"Right. No one takes a jumper anywhere without my authorization." John was glad that someone under his command had a brain. "I know you cleared the mission through Major Lorne, but did you even inform Dr. Weir?"

"No, sir." Stackhouse was pale.

"And where is Teyla now? Did you leave her on the mainland when my team has a mission in the morning?"

"Oh, crap, sir." Stackhouse gulped like a fish. "She didn't tell me to stay, and I... screwed up."

"You did, and what really pisses me off is that you know better. No matter what Major Lorne said to you, you knew! Go get Teyla. Tell Ronon you're going, so he has the option of going with you, and then report to the Discipline Officer."

"Yes, sir, and, um, which jumper should I take?" Stackhouse was smart enough to ask.

"Jumper Three." John took a step and put his hand on Stackhouse's shoulder. If Stackhouse had been a top, John wouldn't have done it. "In the future, I expect better from you."

"You'll get it, sir." Stackhouse looked down. John gave him a short squeeze and let him go.

"Get moving, Sergeant."

Stackhouse hurried, and John went back to his office to do more reports, requisitions, and check inventories. This time, he would be more than ready for Caldwell. He kept one ear on the radio chatter, switching channels occasionally but hearing nothing out of the ordinary.

When he heard noise about dinner break, he went to have a surprise inspection in the storerooms. How to feed all these people had been a problem from day one. They hadn't brought cooks, and the scientists were damn dangerous in the kitchen. The jarheads had thrown several hissy fits until John had found a mix of botanists and Air Force personnel who could cook the native food and not blow up Atlantis. KP was still considered punishment or given to newbies, but that was clean up only.

For once, he didn't feel like anyone was smirking at him, which was strange since he had a bruise on one side of his face and a red slash on the other.

As usual, stores were low before the Daedalus arrived, and he did just enough glowering to get promises that things would be shaped up before tomorrow. The word went out after the first storeroom because by the time he got to the third, personnel were already in there working. He didn't do more than nod and keep moving. Teyla and Ronon intercepted him as he headed for the last storeroom.

"Food," Ronon said.

Teyla greeted him properly. "Thank you."

"Sorry it took me so long to realize my men were being idiots." John wasn't always sure why Teyla put up with him. "Did you have a nice meeting?"

"It was long and dull." Teyla's eyes twinkled. John laughed. He knew there was no such thing as an Athosian council, but she deserved an escape from Earth bureaucracy, so he'd keep her secret. Her hand came up to hover over the side of John's bruised face. "Ronon, you will be punished for this."

"Good."

John smothered a laugh. "I'd be running and screaming, if you were my top."

Ronon started for the mess hall, and they followed behind him. She gave him a sideways look. "Will you punish Rodney for marking your face?"

"I've already told the cooks no pudding for a week. That should hurt him." John grinned. "He tripped."

"I am sure he did." She laughed. "He is not a subtle man."

"No, he's not, but most people don't pay attention." John made sure his voice was low and easy. He had known Ronon would share the news with Teyla, and it was fine. They were team.

They loaded their trays, taking everything to their usual table. Before John could get his fruit cup open, Rodney slipped into the chair next to Teyla.

"Wow, Sheppard, you've got to be tired from stomping around all day," Rodney said, spooning up some potatoes. "And for some reason, people are blaming me for your bad mood!"

"You should not have marked John on the face," Teyla said. "He must command respect."

"I spent most of the day doing reports. The Daedalus will be here tomorrow." John tried to deflect the subject. "Hopefully, they'll have popcorn."

"Will they get here before or after our mission?" Ronon asked.

"Dunno," John said. "We'll go early their time so that'll be --" He looked at Rodney for some help.

"After lunch," Rodney said and pointed at John with a loaded spoon. "I did not mark his face. If I had, you'd know it."

Thinking of his ass, John had to agree. He picked at his food, not really hungry, stomach roiling from being pissed off all day. He also made sure not to watch Rodney's fork. Wishing he was on his knees, being fed, was not a productive use of his time.

"John, eat," Rodney whispered.

Their eyes met, and John clenched his jaw before giving him a tiny nod. This was his first day collared, and he felt like he was screwing it up. It was as if his collar demanded one thing and his job another. He ate, smiling where appropriate in the conversation but offering little. Marines came in and some were brave enough to give him a wary look. Most put their heads down, shoveled it in, and left without looking up.

"Got 'em running scared," Ronon said with a grin.

They sat there, together, for longer than it took to eat. When there was no one at any table around them. Rodney asked, "What did Lorne say to upset the apple cart?"

"That's military business," John said. He stood and picked up his tray. "I still have reports to file. Remind me not to put them off in the future."

"I will," Teyla said with no trace of humor in her voice.

Rodney sipped his coffee and said nothing. John wanted to wait for permission, but he shouldn't, and indecision made him hesitate too long.

"Well, get out of here, Sheppard. Those reports aren't going to type themselves," Rodney said. "Even though I'm not sure why you bother. Caldwell never brings half the things we requisition."

"Stop requisitioning hot cocoa, marshmallows, Hershey bars, and porn," John teased.

"Everyone knows an army marches on its stomach." Rodney grinned. "And the porn is therapeutic."

John snorted. "Right. It's the reason geeks have carpal tunnel. Excuse me, Teyla. Ronon."

Rodney threw a spoon after him. "Go away, Sheppard."

Instead of his office, John took a long patrol around the outskirts of the populated areas of Atlantis, poking his head into labs and recreational areas. It never hurt to touch base with people and find out what their concerns were. He tried hard to present himself as the contact between the base and Dr. Weir. Not everyone felt as comfortable yelling at her as Rodney did.

When it happened, John wasn't surprised. He'd expected it most of the day, and it was almost funny that he felt none of the cold fury of past encounters.

"I say all Colonel Tightass needs is a good hard fucking."

John stepped around the corner. "Do you really think, Corporal Spitz, that a nice dick up my ass would increase your competence? Do you?"

Complete and utter silence from both corporals, whose faces couldn't get any paler. John waited a few moments before continuing, "Corporal Miller, do you have an opinion?"

"No, sir. He's stupid no matter who gets fucked."

"That's what I think." John wasn't entirely surprised to find these two men down here slacking off. They were already on his short list of people to watch. "Spitz, after you finish that cigarette, go pack. You're shipping out on the Daedalus. Miller, you're on probation. Impress me with your competence, or you'll be joining him on Earth."

"I will, sir," Miller said, giving John a salute. His face a mixture of fury and embarrassment, Spitz brought the cigarette out from behind his back.

"Grind that out on my floor, and you'll lick it up," John growled. No one treated his city like that.

Spitz put it out against his belt buckle. "Yes, sir," he mumbled, giving him a crappy salute before slinking away.

Waiting until he was long gone, John tried to get a read on Miller. "Do you want to stay on Atlantis, Miller?"

"I like it here, sir." Miller looked away. "He was my top. It's hard to say no."

Making sure not to show any sympathy, John tried to give him some advice. "There's work and then there's sex. You have to learn to keep them separate, especially here on Atlantis. If we're fucking around, the Wraith will suck us dry. We can't afford mistakes."

"I can see that. Missions here are... difficult."' Miller bit his lower lip. "I'll try to impress you, sir."

"I always need good people. Take the day. Get your head on straight." John wasn't a complete dick, no matter what Rodney said. Miller hurried after Spitz, and John leaned against the wall. Rubbing his face, he had to laugh at the irony. He'd been so well fucked last night that walking was an issue, and his men thought he needed to get laid. Maybe getting his ass filled made him a complete bitch.

"You, um, okay?"

John looked up and met Rodney's eyes. "Yeah. Laughing at life's little mysteries."

"Like?" Rodney leaned against the wall next to him.

"Why people think that sex would put me in a good mood." John rubbed his mouth. "It'd solve all the base's problems if I took a hard one to hear them tell it."

Rodney chuckled. "The powers of your ass are amazing."

They laughed together. John shoved away from the wall. "I need to check in with Dr. Weir."

"I'm quitting early tonight. For some reason, I'm a bit worn out." Rodney smirked and headed for the transporter. John walked with him, not too close, and it wasn't until the door closed that Rodney reached and captured John by the wrist. "Still mine?"

"No one else would put up with me." John touched the circle for the level that Rodney needed and said after the light took them there, "Only yours."

"Don't walk the city all night." Rodney phrased it as a command. He walked away without a look back, and John transported himself to the control tower. John realized that he had no idea if Rodney expected him to stop by, sleep with him, whatever. Being collared was harder than it looked.

John didn't head for her office. He looked over all the consoles, and then settled into a chair next to Chuck. "Give me the good gossip."

With a grin, Chuck leaned close. "Word is the commander of this base has a burr under his saddle."

"He has a saddle? Kinky." John flashed a quick grin. "I need to meet this guy."

"I'd wait until he's in a better mood." Chuck glanced at Weir's office. "Major Lorne stomped out of there about an hour ago."

"Interesting." John wasn't going to hazard a guess on what they'd been talking about in specific, but he was sure his name had come up in general. "Any new pairings?"

"The betting is hot and heavy in the science labs that McKay's taking a new sub. No one knows who."

"Is he any nicer when he has a sub?" John asked, making sure to show no emotion.

"I heard he gets worse." Chuck switched his tone of voice. "So, you see, Colonel, the shield is operating at full capacity."

"Colonel, a word?" Weir arched her eyebrow at him.

"Yes, ma'am. Keep up the good work, Chuck." John trailed her to her office and gave her plenty of time to sit down before finding his own chair. He folded his hands because subs did that and waited.

"Is your team ready for tomorrow?"

He knew she hadn't called him in her office to discuss that, but he played along. "We're good to go. Rodney says early their time is about lunch for us, so we'll let him eat first. He's always easier to get along with on a full stomach."

She smiled. "Keep the bear fed. Tell me, is it your intention to send Major Lorne back on the Daedalus?"

He blinked, having expected a few more words of distraction. "Should I?" he deflected the question back on her.

"If he's a direct threat to your authority and mine, yes." Her eyes narrowed and she leaned forward. "Is he?"

Reluctantly, John went with the truth. "Some tops in the military can't work under subs. I'm still trying to get a feel for whether or not Major Lorne can handle it."

"He does seem confused as to his role here on this base. Work closely with him until you know for sure which way he leans." Her look was predatory. "We fight the Wraith, not each other."

"Yes, ma'am." John didn't let his surprise for her full backing show on his face because it could be a ploy. "I'll work with him."

"Despite the insults?"

"He'll figure out I'm not subbing for Teyla and Ronon, not that it's any of his business." John rolled his eyes at that absurd idea. "Once he gets a few missions under his belt, he might view me differently."

"Pegasus does have a way of changing people's attitudes."

"Sink or swim." John was glad she'd made up his mind for him. He'd teach Lorne a few lessons about life in Pegasus and see if he could be salvaged. "Want me to take him tomorrow?"

"No, let him stew for a few days on third shift." She leaned back now, obviously satisfied. "I take it you won't be subbing for Major Lorne?"

"Not in this lifetime." John got to his feet. He needed to leave before she asked any more personal questions. "Anything else, my lady?"

"Remember the rule: no nuclear weapons for tava beans."

John grinned, fighting a blush. "Got it. McKay hates that rule." He sketched a salute and got out the door before she pulled her riding crop, and he had to run screaming.

It was totally irrational to go to the jumper bay and make sure Stackhouse had parked correctly, but John did it anyway, still mad that Lorne had sent one out without telling him. It didn't hurt to make sure all the systems were fine and sitting in the pilot's seat calmed him.

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. He couldn't be an asshole every day. There had to be a way to find a balance between what he wanted from Rodney and what he had to do to keep this command. He could admit he wanted both, needed both, and didn't want to choose between the two. The very idea made him shudder.

When he felt like he could face the world, or at least the people on base, he went out and closed the ramp behind him. Squaring his shoulders, he headed to his quarters. Going to Rodney's seemed risky after a long day of scowling at people, and he really needed a shower.

"Are you completely finished being an asshole?" Rodney had his arms crossed and his chin up, sitting on John's bed.

Going to him, John knelt and dropped his head to Rodney's thighs. "They started it."

Rodney laughed and smacked him on the back of the head. John rubbed his cheek against Rodney's leg, and Rodney stroked his hand through John's hair. "They did. I was worried about you."

"It's hard --" John stopped, not wanting to finish with words that could be taken as criticism.

"It's hard to want me and be the tough commander at the same time." Rodney leaned over, giving him shelter. "Staying out of my lab was a good decision. I might have pushed you over a table and taken you."

John would've loved that. "It might've helped me stop grinding my teeth." He nuzzled at Rodney's groin. "I need a shower."

"I'll join you. I want to run my hands over my marks." Rodney bracketed John's face and pulled him up for a kiss. "It's the first day. It'll get easier."

"I hope so." John inched closer. "Wanting to kneel by your leg all day makes it hard to get any work done."

Rodney groaned loudly. "That would be so nice. When you get vacation, we're doing that."

"If we do, I want to be cuffed, blindfolded, and fed by hand all day." John met Rodney's eyes, meaning every word of it. "Promise me?"

"You are the bossiest bottom on this planet, possibly the galaxy." Rodney kissed him hard. "But you've got a deal."

It was a comforting thought.

********

His morning was full of last-minute details before the Daedalus arrived. Rodney had been gone when John woke for his morning run, and he felt the lack. That alone was enough to make him a grouch. Ronon grinned when John appeared in a long-sleeved shirt. Still cranky, John cut his run short so he could get ahead on today's business.

"Any word from the Daedalus, Chuck?"

"Not yet, sir."

John double-timed it down to the armory to make sure things were organized. He got there right as Lorne swaggered out.

"Everything in order, Major?"

"We're shipshape." Lorne glanced back at the door, eyes betraying his nerves. John had a feeling he knew why, and before he could palm open the door, Lorne babbled, "Seriously, sir. We're good. Completely ready for the Daedalus."

"You've been off-duty for an hour, Major." John didn't open the door. He really didn't want to know who Lorne had been fucking. "I'll be off-world after lunch. If Dr. Weir calls you, I expect you to be awake enough to give her a hand."

"Of course, sir." Lorne shifted on his feet. "I think we're ready."

"Colonel Caldwell doesn't ever seem to think so." John put it out there. If Lorne went right to Caldwell with it, John would know he needed a new XO. "Oh, by the way, since you haven't been stationed here very long, have you read Dr. Weir's rules about fucking on Atlantis?"

Lorne swallowed hard. "There are more rules than the usual?" He sounded incredulous.

"On this base, yes. I suggest you read them before the day is out." John gave up on the person inside coming out and palmed opened the door, ignoring the panicked look of Dr. Kusanagi as she walked swiftly away. "The armory is no place for fun and games. There's live ammo in there! If I'd have caught you with your pants down, you'd be on report!"

"Yes, sir!"

John waved him away, sick of Lorne and his screw-ups. Lorne had better come on strong soon, or he was gone. One thing John did know, he wasn't telling Rodney why Miko was going to be late for work. Some people were so kinky.

Everything was straight and organized, and he checked it off his mental list. From there, he went to his security chief and made certain that Corporal Spitz would be assisted in every way as he transferred to the Daedalus.

"Sheppard!"

John turned on his heel. "McKay, what's up?"

"Early lunch." Rodney waved his hand in the general direction of the mess hall. "Don't worry, I left my marker in my desk."

"We can eat then." John walked with him, trying not to smile. "You ready for the Daedalus?"

"Think so. A few are leaving, some are arriving. Nothing new." Rodney stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Are you worried about Caldwell?"

"Rodney, I'm always worried about Caldwell." John pitched his voice low.

Rodney shrugged. They got some food, and John ate without talking. He wasn't in the mood for a lot of gossip. Everyone would probably take a deep breath when he was off base later today.

"Miko!" Rodney barked. John flinched, unable to stop himself. She scurried over, and Rodney let her have both barrels. She'd been late. She'd been derelict. He despaired of her intellect, and she was on thin ice for the next week.

Miko looked at John with big, soulful eyes, and he thought she might cry. He finished his muffin and drank his coffee. Rodney finally shooed her away and then growled, "Subs who put sex before their jobs drive me crazy."

"Oh, me too." John went heavy with the sarcasm. "Thank goodness there are tops to keep us in line, never demanding sex during work hours."

Rodney's mouth sagged, and then he sat up straighter. "Of course we don't." His eyes shifted all over the place. "That would be wrong."

"Yes, it would. Dr. Weir has made it clear after that last invasion attempt that there is to be no sex on duty. None. Zip. Zero."

"All right!" Rodney yelled and then ducked his head when people looked at him. "I get it."

"No, you won't, not during on-duty hours." John smirked, enjoying Rodney's discomfort. "Have you reinforced that message to your staff lately?"

Rodney made a show of looking in his lap. "Um, no?"

John drank his coffee so he didn't laugh. He made sure not to glance Miko's direction. "Might want to do that. Okay, be in the locker room in an hour."

This time he didn't wait for permission, but he wanted to, and he thought Rodney knew it. Weir took up most of the hour with planning for upcoming missions, and somehow the rest of the team managed to beat him there.

"I'm not late." John had to say it. He didn't rush, but he didn't slow down, and he still beat Rodney to the gate. Teyla stroked her hand down Ronon's dreadlocks. John watched her do it before every mission. It was her way of telling him to be careful. Ronon didn't listen as far as John could tell.

"Dial the gate, Chuck," Weir said, "and be safe, Colonel."

"Yes, ma'am." John didn't let his gaze linger on her. "Ready, McKay?"

After a brief fumble with his P-90, Rodney nodded. Teyla led the way through the wormhole, Ronon right on her heels, and John on their six.

The sun was up but low in the sky, and there was the usual amount of trees and grass, prompting the usual amount of complaints from Rodney about the lack of cities, amenities, and industrialization in the Pegasus galaxy.

Sweeping up a long blade of grass, John stuck it in his mouth. "Teyla."

"This way, Colonel." Teyla continued to lead the way, and John fell into step behind Rodney. The walk was nice, and except for Ronon's occasional looks skyward for Wraith darts, it would be easy to pretend they were safe.

The fact they weren't was reinforced when they met a delegation outside the village, armed with bows, crossbows, and even a gun or two of Genii design.

John had thought several times that it would be nice to run across a culture that didn't have tops and subs, but today wasn't that day.

Their village leader was definitely a top, and he liked to drag people around by leashes. He had three subs, two men and a woman, kneeling in very submissive positions. His eyes raked over John's team, and he instantly dismissed John, approaching Teyla. It wasn't how they usually did things, but John was willing to work with it.

"I'm Sheppard, this is Teyla Emmagan," John said, trying for his most pleasant voice. "That's Ronon and McKay."

"Dr. McKay," Rodney said.

"I am Sadith, and I do not speak to unclaimed submissives." Sadith lashed out, and John's first coherent thought from down in the dirt was that everyone was right. He needed to work on ducking.

"Ronon, no! Kneel!"

John got up much slower than he'd fallen, wiping blood from his mouth, and he wondered if everyone could see the fury in Rodney's eyes. "I'm okay."

"Did you come to trade him? He needs several lessons in manners." Sadith smiled down at Teyla, who was holding Ronon back by the sheer force of her will. John was very sure he should crawl behind Teyla and act submissive, but he never did the smart thing when it came to these situations.

"We do not trade in submissives. Colonel Sheppard is a valued member of the team." Teyla allowed Ronon to stand. "Do not strike him again."

Sadith laughed. "They like it. We will trade with you, after we find a proper owner for the boy." He reached. "We have many tops who need one, even as shabby as he is."

Running back to the stargate wasn't necessary yet, but John would never accept a 'proper owner' in the quest for more tava beans. He drew the line right there. It was easy enough to slide back from Sadith's long arm, and John might've - he wasn't sure - gasped when Rodney stepped in front of him.

"Touch my sub one more time, and I'll shoot you. I've been polite, out of respect for your position, but do not even look at him again!" Rodney sounded fiercer than John had ever heard. "Do you understand, you sorry excuse for bipedal motion?"

"He has no collar." Sadith looked them both over, and John wanted to shoot him, wanted to hurt him.

Rodney didn't turn or take his eyes off Sadith. "John, kneel and show him your collar."

John took a good look at all the arrows pointed at them before going to his knees and peeling back his wristband. "He is my top," he said, but he didn't say it very loudly. His defense was that he hadn't said it aloud before, and he was sure he saw Rodney react to the simple words.

"He is a poor sub, so I suppose we will not steal him." Sadith turned to his men. "Get McKay a proper collar and leash so there are no mistakes. We will trade!"

"Oh, yay," John muttered, feeling Teyla's stare. He put his wristband back down, struggling against the urge to shoot the bastard and maybe put a slug in Rodney's leg on principle. Okay, John would try to wing him. It wasn't Rodney's fault, and this sort of thing was going to happen when they encountered other cultures.

"John, look up," Rodney said.

Looking up, John was sure everyone saw his anger and resentment.

"If we want to trade, I have to collar you around your neck. I'll be gentle, I swear." Rodney fidgeted with the heavy, black collar and leash. "I know it'll hurt your scar, but you can bear the pain for a little while."

"Scar?" Sadith marched over, staring down at him, but John noticed that Rodney only let him get so close. Rodney was protecting him. Like a top would a sub.

"He survived the Iratus bug," Teyla said. "His neck bears the scar."

Sadith's ugly mouth hung open. "No one survives the bug!"

"We killed him, tore the bug out, and brought him back to life with our medicines." Teyla grabbed the situation and shook it for all it was worth, but John found that he was focusing on Rodney and the collar. A good sub would take it and smile. John wasn't that sub. He wasn't even sure he could muster up any guilt over it.

Rodney clearly didn't want to put the heavy collar on him, and it was a relief that they felt the same about it.

"We must talk of this." Sadith waved his arms in the air. "We will eat and talk! That sub is claimed!"

There were a few grumbles from the crowd, and Rodney threw the collar to someone. The leash he kept, and John eased to his feet, unsure if he should. Rodney clicked the leash to John's belt, away from his gun.

John couldn't help but stare down at it. He'd never been leashed, and he wasn't sure what to do. Rodney stepped close and kissed him. "Trust Teyla, and then we'll never come back here."

"Yeah, I can do this," John said, but he wasn't sure, and it probably showed on his face. Teyla led Ronon, and Rodney stood immobile so long that John snapped, "I can't go first!"

"Oh, right, sorry. I, just. Never mind." Rodney went, but John stayed close. John didn't like the looks he was getting, and Rodney responded by glaring at everyone. There were tables in the village commons, and John followed Ronon's example and stood behind Rodney when he sat down. Teyla and Sadith began a complex negotiation, and Rodney played with his scanner.

Ronon looked perfectly at ease being Teyla's watchdog, but John felt like a total moron. Even the Wraith had given him more respect than this, and he began to think that he complained too much about the people on Atlantis. At least they weren't like these idiots. Everywhere he looked subs, men and women, were being treated more like dogs than people. He didn't care that this was their way of life. It was wrong.

"Tell the story of the bug," Sadith slapped his hand on the table. The entire village gathered to listen, and John wanted to crawl under the table. Rodney interjected a time or two to set Teyla right on technical details, but John could tell the crowd wanted to hear about him dying, not much else. It really wasn't much of a scar, nothing to brag about, but he dutifully showed it off when Rodney suggested it.

Some idiot actually reached to touch, and Rodney slapped the hand away. "What's it take, people? He's mine!"

John thought that Rodney had wanted to yell those words for a while. "How'd you know it was sensitive?" he asked in a voice pitched for Rodney's ears only.

"Scars do not hurt." Sadith yanked his leather shirt off and thumped a big scar on his chest. "This was an axe!" He glared at Teyla. "We do not trade with liars."

Teyla looked at Rodney, who rolled his eyes. "John, you know I don't like doing this sort of thing, but that big dummy isn't going to believe us otherwise, and why we need more purple potatoes is a real mystery, but Elizabeth wants us to build allies, and --"

John knelt about halfway through Rodney's diatribe. "Just do it," he interrupted. Rodney skimmed his fingers around John's throat to the Iratus scar, the crowd hushed, and John shuddered from the simple touch. It would hurt but not much. He was going to have to sell it. Rodney cupped the back of John's head with one hand and twisted a hunk of skin viciously with the other.

Surprise overlaid John's reaction as pain ripped up and down him. He'd been prepared to scream, but the bellow that came out of his mouth was unscripted. His head felt swollen, tingles broke out all over his body, and he started to shake from the pain.

Rodney's strong hands grounded him, and even though he knew he shouldn't, he pressed his body into all of Rodney that was reachable. Panting, trembling, he hadn't known it could hurt so badly. Suddenly, the truth hit him smack in the face. Rodney was more than just John's top.

"You're all mine," John ground out around the ache in his throat. Rodney's eyes widened in surprise as he yanked him closer. John burrowed into him, trying to bring his body under control. God, he hated bugs.

"I'm yours," Rodney whispered in John's ear, making it sound like a revelation. "Sorry about that."

They both apologized too much, and dimly John heard Teyla and Sadith.

"We do not lie."

"The bug left its mark in him. He will never be rid of it."

John raised his head to meet Rodney's worried eyes. "You okay?"

"Me? You're the one who's wrecked." Rodney put a mug of something sweet to John's lips. John drank, still feeling the pain in his throat. His duty warred with his sub nature and lost miserably. He was damn worthless on this mission, and he couldn't help but think that Atlantis would hold it against him in the future if they knew. He'd just proven to his own satisfaction why subs shouldn't lead teams.

"John, you need to breathe. What is it with you and oxygen? It's not your enemy." Rodney touched John's lips. "Come up here. Sit with me."

Obeying was much easier than breathing, and John found he couldn't meet anyone's eyes. Rodney wrapped his arm around him, and John leaned into him.

"Pain better?"

Nodding was enough, and he let himself trust his team to keep them safe. He ate from Rodney's hand, and he did what he was told without question. Twice he whimpered softly when he wasn't being touched, and a small part of him worried about the mission, but the rest of him didn't give a damn. He needed Rodney. That was all he had room for in his brain.

When Rodney stopped walking, John knelt as close as possible. He looked up, waiting for his next order. Rodney sighed and stroked his hand through John's hair. "You're a disaster. Don't get me wrong, I like it, but if the base sees you like this, the game is up, and I'm not sure you're ready for that."

"Dr. Weir will be pleased with the trade agreement," Teyla said. "Colonel Sheppard did his part. Sadith was impressed with him."

"Sadith is a bastard," Rodney growled. "John, tell me what to do. I can't make this decision for us."

John licked his lips. He didn't know what to say or do to help, but he didn't want to go back to Atlantis like this. It would ruin his career.

"I'll stun him," Ronon said. "You think up a lie."

"I'm terrible at lying," Rodney said. "Teyla?"

"Perhaps there was a physical contest of some kind, and John was knocked out." Teyla frowned.

"They hit his neck, and he passed out!" Rodney hugged John's head. "Total accident, of course, and after we got the trade agreement."

Teyla went to one knee in front of John. "John?"

"Yeah," John said roughly. He couldn't really concentrate on anything but Rodney. "Whatever you guys think is best."

"Never gets old," Ronon said, pulling out his blaster.

*********

John couldn't count the number of times he'd woken up after being stunned, and it always involved thrashing about. This time, instead of fighting it, he let it have him. Getting up meant facing a host of things that he'd rather avoid, up to and including Colonel Caldwell. Lying here forever was a great idea. The super headspace he'd been sunk inside was gone, and while he wanted Rodney, it wasn't imperative like earlier. John didn't understand what had happened on that planet, but he knew they were going to have to discuss it, and that made him groan.

"Waking up, lad?"

Carson stepped close. John could smell him. Opening his eyes wasn't possible yet. They weren't working, but he tried to nod.

"Aye, Dr. Weir, he's going to be fine. He woke up shortly before I put him under the scanner. He's resting, and I forbid him to talk. I'll send a full report soon."

There had to be a reason that Carson was lying his ass off, but John couldn't think of it. They were friends, but not close, not like Carson and... Rodney. Rodney had been doing damage control, and John was fine with that. He didn't even know what to say in his report, and he wasn't sure he could ever face Teyla. Maybe he should resign now and save himself a world of embarrassment when everyone discovered that he couldn't hold himself together on a simple mission.

"Seriously, lad, are you awake?"

John managed to open his eyes. "Yeah," he croaked, surprised that his throat hurt. "Ow."

"I suspected as much. I really am a doctor, despite what Rodney says." Carson put a straw to John's lips. "Drink a little."

Sipping, John winced at the taste, but he swallowed.

"Aye, it tastes bad, but it'll help. The Athosians have a wonderful numbing agent for sore throats. If we were on Earth, I could make a fortune with it." Carson chuckled. "Now, don't talk. That's an order I expect obeyed, or I'll turn Rodney loose on you. Yes, I see the fear in your eyes."

It wasn't exactly fear, but John wasn't going to talk. It'd give him time to decide what to say to Teyla, and if he should resign his commission. They'd let him stay and work with Rodney. He was sure of it, and maybe it'd be for the best.

They both heard the sound of raised voices, and Carson smiled. "That'll be Rodney. I'll go slow him down, but you're on your own with the rest of it."

Rolling his eyes, John tried to raise his head, but he wasn't recovered enough yet.

"I don't want to be reasonable! I want to see him!"

"Just don't knock him off the gurney with your enthusiasm!"

John wondered how long Carson had known about him and Rodney. Months was John's guess. It was hard to get angry about it.

"John," Rodney said breathlessly, kissing him on the forehead. "You're okay. I mean, I knew you were, but Dr. Voodoo over there made me think otherwise, and then Dr. Weir wanted a ten hour debriefing with Caldwell shoving his big nose into everything, and, seriously, are you okay?"

"I told him not to talk." Carson jumped in before John could mumble a word. "And he's fine. The effects of Ronon's big damn gun should wear off soon."

Rodney gulped. "I hurt him. I didn't mean to, but I did. I knew his neck was sensitive. Kissing and sucking make him crazy, but I swear I didn't know it'd really hurt! He was going to fake it!"

Straining, John grabbed Rodney's flipping hand. "Okay."

"Oh, God. I broke him!" Rodney thumped his head down on John's chest. John oofed. He got his other arm to work and hugged him. Rodney made a sad sound. "I don't deserve him."

Looking over, John met Carson's amused eyes and winked. Carson grinned. "Rodney, John's throat is a wee bit sore is all. I gave him some numbing medicine. Still, no talking for two days."

"Oh." Rodney looked up. "You're really okay?"

John nodded and smiled. Rodney moved fast and kissed him. Then he pulled back and took a long look at John's neck, turning John's head. "Is it going to bruise?"

"It's doing that right now. The skin on John's neck --" Carson paused as if he was searching for the right words. "It's different, not quite what it was. It's difficult to explain if you don't have a degree in genetics. I think if you collared him, it'd drive him bonkers. See that red tint?"

John kept hold of Rodney's hand. Rodney nodded. "I really hurt him."

"It was probably a bit of shock for both of you. His nerves there are incredibly fine-tuned. Kissing is okay. Twisting and pulling isn't, and if he ever were struck there, I'd expect him to pass out." Carson patted Rodney's arm. "I'll leave you two alone. John, I'll release you when you can stand without tumbling over."

"I'm sorry, so sorry." Rodney touched John's lips. "Don't talk. That's an order from me." He smoothed John's hair back. "Weir bought the story. We told her that you'd been sparring with a native and were hit in the throat. Remind me to never, ever, touch you there again. Not now, no talking, but maybe I should make a note, somewhere." He rubbed his face. "Are you out of subspace? Just nod or shake your head."

Nodding, John struggled to sit up, glad when Rodney helped. Upright, John shook out his arms and wiggled his feet. Satisfied that all his parts worked, he pulled Rodney into a hug.

"You're not mad." Rodney kissed him about a dozen times. "Thank God. I thought you were going to hate me."

John moved Rodney's hand until it was on his wristband. "Take it off."

"Shhh! Carson will kill me!" Rodney peeled off the wristband. "Now what?"

Taking it, John stuffed it in a pocket. He brought the collar up to his lips and kissed it. It was dramatic, but he wanted to make his point. Rodney grinned and then blushed. He wrapped his hand around John's arm and pulled him close. He kissed the collar too.

"We'll skip putting it on your neck. Stupid custom anyway."

"Colonel, you are well?"

Teyla and Ronon grinned at them, and John ducked his head, poking Rodney. Rodney launched into a detailed explanation, and John nodded a couple of times. Teyla took him by the shoulders, and they touched foreheads.

"I let you down." He'd let the entire team down.

"You did not. Lady Elizabeth is pleased with the trade, but I am not recommending subs be allowed to gate to that planet again." Teyla smiled. "Except for you, of course. They have the utmost respect for you."

They'd been a bunch of freaks, no doubt, but John nodded, even though if he had his way, he'd never go back there again unless it was to shoot Sadith in the balls.

"I have duties," John croaked, trying to get his boots on the floor. He might not be fit to lead a team, but there were supplies that needed organized, and he was good at that.

"Colonel! There'll be no talking!" Carson nudged Rodney aside, ignoring the squawk. He made John drink some more of the sludge and then shooed everyone out. "Okay, now. Your skin is very sensitive." He skimmed his fingernail down the side of John's neck, and John hissed in shock. A real touch and he'd fall down.

Carson glared. "See? I'm going to put a waterproof bandage over it to keep it dry when you shower. Trust me, you'll thank me. Come see me tomorrow." He left for a moment and came back with his supplies. John tilted his head as directed and tried not to wince. Carson was practically sweating with the effort to be gentle.

The bandage covered most of the side of John's neck, and he felt stupid. Carson drew back. "No kissing on the neck and don't let the shower water hit it."

John thought that was great advice, and this time, Carson let him off the gurney. For a second, John's legs trembled, and then he found his strength. "Thanks," he said.

"Get Rodney out of my hospital, and we're even." Carson reached to pat him on the shoulder but then stopped. "I suppose I shouldn't. Go on with you now."

Later, John would find out how long Carson had known about them, but for now, he was hungry, and he had to make sure supplies were being put away. Rodney was in the hallway, slumped against the wall, and John took him by the hand.

"Wait. Where are we going? No, don't answer that!" Rodney caught up, and John let go. The mess hall was busy, and he smelled something like roast beef, and Rodney said, "I ate, but I can eat again. No, don't look at me like that. I was nervous, and you were passed out." He glared. "Shut up with that eyebrow."

Going to their table, John fielded a few nods and an open stare or two. He felt naked with his wrist exposed. Everyone could see the collar, and he had to squash the urge to stuff his hand in his pocket. He sat down, forcing his shoulders to relax.

Rodney sat down across from him. They ate, and Rodney talked, and John shrugged a lot. They were doing the same thing they'd done a hundred times before, but it felt different. _He_ felt different, and it wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

"Colonel Sheppard, report to Dr. Weir's office. Colonel Sheppard."

Shoving in his last bite, he stood, and Rodney got up with him. "I'll go with you. Translate all your shrugs and grunts."

John nodded, and they cleaned up the table before walking together to Weir's office. Their shoulders rubbed a couple of times, and he liked it. Weir and Caldwell were waiting on him, and he couldn't help but straighten his spine.

"John, how are you?"

"He's fine. Seriously. Carson said he shouldn't talk, but I can translate." Rodney waved his hands around, and John didn't try to stop him.

Caldwell crossed his arms. "You were sparring with a native?"

It was easy to see the disbelief, but explaining what had happened wasn't possible now that Teyla had sold the story to Weir.

"It was supposed to be a bonding thing." Rodney was terrible at lying, and John hoped they were finished with that.

Weir cleared her throat. "I think we've gone over it enough. Colonel Sheppard, you're on light duty for three days."

"Light duty, got it," Rodney said, a little too cheerfully. John rolled his eyes and nodded to Weir.

Caldwell looked from Rodney to John. "Is he going to speak for you from now on?"

Shrugging, John went ahead and used his scratchy voice. "Orders are orders."

"Ouch. Try to follow them." Weir smiled in that way that meant she was trying to be sympathetic. "I think that's enough, Colonel. Go rest."

"He will. I'll lock him in his room." Rodney grinned, and John nudged him towards the door so he'd shut up. John stopped at Chuck and held out his hand. Chuck handed him a data stick.

"Everything is going well from what I hear." Chuck pointed at his ear. "No fist fights over chocolate yet."

That was because Rodney wasn't down at the pier to kick up his usual fuss. John smiled and poked Rodney with a finger.

"Ow, and yes, yes, I'm far too possessive about chocolate and coffee, but that's who I am." Rodney lifted his chin. "Chuck, are you still topping Stackhouse? Is his ass as red as I heard?"

Chuck's cheeks brightened. "Colonel, I might've added a few strokes from my belt." He swallowed hard. "Everyone knows how you feel about the jumpers."

"I'm sure Sheppard is grateful for your help." Rodney snorted. "Not that he needed it. Okay, enough chit-chat, move it."

John rubbed his forehead. The power had obviously gone to Rodney's head, and it'd been about an hour of John wearing the collar in the open. Even if no one else knew what it meant, Rodney certainly did. Arguing with him wasn't a good idea because Carson would hear about it, so John made an ugly face and headed to quarters.

Rodney had to trot to catch up, and he grumbled in the transporter. "Oh, yeah, I'm the top."

The doors opened, and John couldn't stop from grinning as they walked to his quarters. Rodney caught him around the wrist, bringing them closer. John had no idea how he was going to walk the path between Rodney and his career, but he was sure that it would all end in flames.

*********

Light duty meant office hours, but since it was John's throat and not his legs, he ignored that and went about his job as usual. Rodney refused to go to work, talked nonstop, and offered his opinion on everything. John understood about guilt, but this was ridiculous. The Marines all looked shell-shocked by the constant Rodney-ness, and finally John pulled him towards the labs.

"We can spend the rest of the day here? Nothing against your men, but seriously, the American educational system is lacking in the basics, like math and common sense." Rodney opened his laptop, humming happily. John got him some coffee, a power bar, and counted to ten before sneaking away. He was sure Zelenka noticed, but Rodney was oblivious.

The edges of the bandage itched, but he tried to ignore it because his shower this morning had been a mix of good and bad. The good being that Rodney had been with him, and the bad being that even indirect water drops had made him gasp. Of course, that had led to more good with him on his knees. Getting clean had taken a while, but he had been glad for the bandage protecting him from the worst of it, just like Carson had said.

Some part of John kept waiting for a comment about the collar on his wrist. Sure, it looked like a bracelet, but he'd never worn jewelry before. It wasn't against regulations, though no commander encouraged anything beyond a collar. It made sense that someone would notice and say something. No one had. Not even Caldwell, who was out on the pier, overlooking the last of the supplies coming off the Daedalus.

John reluctantly joined him, thinking it was rude to stride past. Rubbing the itchy edge of the bandage, he made sure to look interested in whatever Caldwell was doing.

"We need to talk, off the record." Caldwell glanced over at him. "Or are you going to pretend you're injured?"

The level of sarcasm made John want to snarl right back at him. "We can talk," he said, surprised when his voice was still scratchy. Carson had explained that it was all about nerves and other stuff this morning, but John hadn't listened. "Doesn't hurt." It ached a little, but that was all.

Caldwell gave him a piercing stare. "That report was bogus."

John smiled to annoy him. "We're a team."

"I'll take that to mean that I'll never know the real story." Caldwell crossed his arms and glared out at the ocean. "Are you subbing for Dr. Weir?"

"No," John croaked, appalled that Caldwell would think that. "Are you?"

"Always the smartass." Caldwell didn't even look at him. "Certain members of the Air Force are concerned that you, as a sub, are being manipulated by Dr. Weir and the IOA. I'm going to need to take back some sort of assurance that this isn't the case."

"Like?" John clenched his jaw. Everyone wanted him to be something other than what he was, everyone but Rodney.

With a quick movement, Caldwell slunk right into John's comfort zone. "Sub for me. If you wear my collar, the Air Force will back off."

John leaned away rather than shoving him back. "Carson says I can't wear collars," he said lightly, not willing to discuss his relationship with Rodney. "My skin is mutated or something. Colonel, I'm honored, but no thank you."

Caldwell stepped so they weren't facing any longer. "They might strip you of this command. Weir's influence only goes so far, and there's still that black mark."

"They might." John coughed, swallowing and wishing for some of that Athosian throat sludge. He wasn't afraid of what the Air Force generals back on Earth would do. If they could've replaced him, they'd have done it already. Weir liked having a sub in command of the military, and she had an inside track with the President. What was important here was finding out if his second-in-command had been sent to spy on him. "Is Lorne your stooge?"

There was a pause, and then Caldwell shrugged. "No, but he's not known for his flexibility on the issue of subs. Good luck there."

"Might have to let Pegasus beat him into shape." John shrugged back, believing him. "Off the record, if you were me, would you sub for anyone on this mission?"

"Have to be someone who wasn't a threat to Weir or the Air Force." Caldwell turned and twitched closer. "You sure? I can make it very, very good for you."

John made sure not to wince or look like he wanted to barf. "No, thank you." He took two steps back. "Colonel."

"Colonel."

This wasn't over by the look on Caldwell's face, but John would never sub for Caldwell, not even to save his career. John wandered back to the infirmary and begged for some throat sludge. Carson muttered about subs that disobeyed every order ever given, and John went to hide in his office.

First Weir had approached him, and now Caldwell. They wanted to control him and through him the military here on Atlantis. He wasn't stupid enough to believe they thought he'd be a good sub.

"Where the hell did you go?" Rodney burst into John's office. "We missed lunch!"

"It's not even noon." John rubbed his face and leaned back in his chair. He wasn't tired, just tired of tops who thought he could be manipulated in his job with sex.

"And stop with that talking!" Rodney waved his hand. He didn't look angry. He looked worried, and John wasn't sure he wanted to know why. Rodney took a loud breath. "Why do people talk about sex all the time? Why can't they just work?"

Those were questions John had asked himself hundreds of times before he'd even graduated high school. He had given up on the answers before going into the Air Force. On a base this small, there were bound to be nonstop discussions about who was topping whom. It was the only entertainment besides the mini-golf course that Rodney had built. Maybe they should set up some chess tournaments or something.

"John? Hello?"

"Sorry," John croaked. He smiled in apology for talking. There were plenty of things he needed to be doing, but what he wanted to do was lie around in bed with Rodney for the rest of the day. Rodney frowned and came around the side of the desk. He stroked John's cheek. John stood and leaned for the comfort. He shouldn't. He was on duty. Sure, he'd seen other people do it, but they weren't him. At least the door was shut.

*********

"Hold still now, lad."

John pretended not to notice Carson's glance at Rodney for permission. Rodney didn't react at all. It was possible that he had no idea what Carson wanted. It wasn't that Rodney was oblivious; it was just that he didn't care about what he considered stupid customs. Carson took that for assent and touched John's neck gently.

"Voice?"

"Better," John said. His voice had come back this morning. Rodney had helped him discover that by making him cry out for more in the shower. Teasing wasn't fair, but Rodney loved to make him squirm.

Carson went for the quick rip, and John blinked, finding Rodney's hand on his arm.

"A right nasty bruise. Rodney, don't do that again," Carson admonished.

Rodney's jaw hung open. He swallowed and whispered, "Never. I promise. John, I didn't know."

Sliding off the table, John pulled him close. "You didn't. I didn't. We won't do it again. You can kiss it better later."

"You still want me?" Rodney sounded so uncertain, so worried, that John could only roll his eyes and kiss him.

"You don't get out of this that easy." John kissed him again right as his radio clicked.

"Colonel Sheppard, we could use some help over here in the main armory."

John looked Rodney right in the eyes. "I'll be there in a few." He clicked off. "With your permission?" he asked.

"Don't ask that when we're on duty, or we'll break those regulations you love so much," Rodney growled, wrapping his hand around John's wrist and collar. John curled into him, and for sixty seconds everything was right on the planet. Rodney nudged him away. "Go to work, John."

"I can do that." John hoped he could. His confidence wasn't exactly on an all-time high after the last mission. "I think," he muttered as he strode away. Maybe he'd talk to Teyla about her taking a more prominent role, if that was possible, in the missions. At least she'd never tried to make him sub for her. Right now, that was a huge point in her favor.

By the time he'd straightened out the mess, decided to open another armory, worked out the details, and smoothed a few egos, there was another call on his headset.

"Colonel, you should get to the gateroom, pronto." It was Lorne, and he sounded like he was about ready to freak. John ran, taking a few back ways that no one else knew about and wondering why Lorne was in the gateroom.

"Major, I'd have thought you'd be asleep."

"Who can sleep with all the yelling?"

John managed to get there faster. He didn't see a problem by the gate, no Wraith, but he could hear Weir upstairs so he trotted that way, gauging the level of disaster by the horror on Chuck's face.

It was unfortunate that Weir and Caldwell picked that moment to emerge from her office. They couldn't help but see him, and her voice was loud enough to be heard in the Milky Way galaxy.

"You have no right!" She snapped her fingers at John, and he went to her before he could process the fact that he'd just screwed himself over by demonstrating his submission.

Caldwell gave him a look that could have brought down a Wraith dart. "My report --"

"Will change nothing!" Weir was furious.

It seemed the entire gateroom was holding its collective breath, and John couldn't breathe at all. It felt like his lungs had collapsed. His hand shook a little as he raised it to his ear. "Rodney, I need you in the control room. Now would be good."

"Can it wait?" Rodney sounded annoyed.

Weir pointed at the floor, wanting John to kneel to her.

"No, it really can't."

Caldwell crossed his arms. "He's the property of the Air Force!"

It had come to this, and he couldn't even pretend he hadn't seen it coming. "I'm _employed_ by the Air Force," he said, "and with all due respect, Dr. Weir, you're not my top." He hadn't thought the silence could get any deeper, but he'd been wrong. Now he could hear the waves lapping down at the pier. He risked a glance at Chuck, who was actually smaller than before, if that was possible.

"I told you," Caldwell said with a nasty smirk. "He doesn't answer to you."

"This is incredibly immature," Rodney snapped, appearing from around the corner. "You're arguing about this out here? Have you two no shame? Never mind, I can see for myself."

"Rodney! Stay out of this!" She glared. "This is about Colonel Sheppard's future, and you have no place in the discussion."

"My job or my sex life?" John snapped, taking some small amount of reassurance from Rodney's hand on his back.

"There's a difference?" Caldwell didn't lose his smirk, edging closer and licking his lower lip.

"Of course there is!" Rodney focused on Weir now. "Which is it?"

John crossed his arms, wanting to know also. She paused and then spat, "If he's mine, then the problem is solved!"

"I agree, but it's clear that Sheppard would rather sub for me," Caldwell said in a tone that no doubt made ensigns quiver in their boots.

Rodney rubbed his forehead and met John's eyes. "You want either of them?"

"No," John said. He had been forced to this, but he'd take it like a man now that he was here. In precise movements, he turned his back on Weir and Caldwell. John put his collared hand on Rodney's chest and knelt without a quiver. "You have my freely given submission."

Wide eyes stared down at him, a harsh breath, and then Rodney's hand moved over his. "And you'll wear my collar?"

Hating the show they were providing, John nodded. "Can we stick with it on my wrist?"

"Sure." Rodney's eyes laughed at him. John wasn't going to look over his shoulder, but from the look on Chuck's face, there was shock enough for everyone. Rodney leaned and kissed him hard. "But you're mine. If the Air Force fires you, you can work in my lab."

"Deal." John managed a tiny smile. "The puddle jumpers are still mine."

"Of course." Rodney waved his hand. "Now, you two bickering schoolchildren, anything else?" He pulled John to his feet.

Weir tugged at the hem of her sweater, and Caldwell had lost his smirk. She cleared her throat. "I guess we're done here."

"You certainly are. If you don't mind, John and I have actual jobs around this place." Rodney snorted. "We don't have time to stand around and argue about other people's sex lives!" He stomped away but turned back. "Oh, and Chuck? Whoever won the pool better come see me."

Trying not to look concerned, John straightened his collar and stiffened his back. "Anything else, sir? Ma'am?"

"That'll be all." Weir left with a toss of her head.

"I give it a month," Caldwell said. "Chuck, start a book."

"Um, well, I'd rather not, sir," Chuck mumbled. John flashed him a quick grin and went to his office so he could stop his shakes in private. By his estimate, the entire base would know in about three seconds, and from there the discipline problems would begin. He'd give himself an hour in his office before he went out to face it.

Ten minutes into his isolation, his door chimed, and he opened it with a thought. Major Lorne eased inside. "Sir, I'm --"

"Laughing your ass off at me?" John interrupted. Defiantly, he rolled up his sleeves, refusing to hide the red marks Rodney had left on him. He belonged to Rodney, and damn it, he wasn't going to deny it any longer.

Lorne looked down and then up. "I guess we haven't gotten off on the right foot, but I wanted to tell you that I think you're the bravest man alive, subbing for Dr. McKay."

"You really want off third shift, don't you?" John let his amusement show.

"Yes, but seriously, are you crazy?" Lorne grinned.

"Certifiable. Have been ever since Afghanistan." John wished that were less true. "Start taking second shift. We'll either learn to get along, or you can leave on the Daedalus."

"I think we'll get along." Lorne gave him a nod before leaving. John rubbed his face hard and took a deep breath. He wasn't hopeful.

*********

There were whispers and looks everywhere John went, but he began to think it was more awe than derision after the first half hour.

"Sheppard, let's meet for dinner," Rodney said in John's ear.

"Cool," John said, starting towards the mess hall. He had never beat Rodney there yet, and today was no exception. Rodney was already sitting with a tray of food, and John went to him.

Rodney frowned. "Don't even think I'm sharing my food. Get your own."

"Nice, McKay." John went ahead and sat down next to him. "Your love has already faded."

Looking down at his tray and waving his fork, Rodney shook his head. "Just. No."

Laughter was the only way to answer that. John got it under control when more people were staring than usual. Yes, he was having a meltdown. They could live with it. Rodney yanked him close and hugged him.

"One bite." Rodney stuffed John's mouth with bread. "Chew. Now go get your own."

Grinning a bready smile, John went to get some food of his own. He wasn't very hungry; drama always made his stomach hurt, but he'd sit there and pretend. Rodney put up with that for about two minutes.

"Eat. Now."

"Wow, you're grouchy." John fussed with his sandwich until Rodney took it from him and fed him each and every bite. John tried to look disapproving, but he loved it.

Rodney ran his hand down John's thigh and squeezed. "Make me do all the work, lazy American."

John ducked his head, knowing that people were staring.

"You okay?"

"A little on the crazy side," John said with a shrug. "Situation normal."

"They'll back off now, and maybe we can get some work done."

"And maybe the Wraith won't eat us," John muttered. He fiddled with his muffin until Rodney glared. John handed it to him. "I'm full."

"Fine. Wither away. Leave me without regular sex. I won't mind at all!"

"You have a PhD in guilt, don't you?" John snatched the muffin that Rodney had unwrapped and ate it in two big bites. Rodney's glare was a terrible thing, but John shrugged and took both of their trays to the dirty pile. That, to him, was an act of submissiveness that Rodney should appreciate. Rodney didn't look impressed, and it was John's turn to glare.

"Okay, okay, I get it. You're the best sub ever." Rodney caught up with him at the door. "I'll catch up with you later. I have about fifty simulations running."

"Later." John purposely went the opposite direction, even though he wasn't sure where he was going yet. He didn't have a scheduled meeting with Weir, and he didn't want to bump into her until... well, for a long time. Caldwell wasn't a good option either. By the time he hit the transporter, he'd decided to hunt up Ronon and Teyla. Using his radio would've been too easy, and it might've alerted Caldwell that John was doing nothing, so he started checking places. It took a while, but he found them with the help of a life signs detector out on the East Pier, watching the sun go down.

It was impossible to sneak up on Ronon, and John wasn't foolish enough to try. Teyla gave him a solemn Athosian greeting, and Ronon gave him a grunt that could've meant anything.

"You and Rodney made the correct decision." She smiled. "He will afford you a level of protection from the IOA that you need to command."

"Caldwell looked pissed," Ronon contributed. "He must've wanted your ass bad."

"Ew." John made a gross face. "I guess Rodney is good for something after all."

"John," Teyla scolded when Ronon laughed. John smiled in apology, turning to look out over the water. At some point, Ronon knelt, and Teyla wrapped her hand into his dreadlocks. It wasn't much of a surprise when Rodney showed up.

"Can we go back to work when the lovely, yet useless, sunset is over?" Rodney whined.

John grinned and threw his arm around him. When the sun was down, Teyla turned to go inside, and they all fell in behind her. For some odd reason, John was reassured about his place on the team. They were balanced, and Teyla, while a natural leader, didn't have eyes on his job. She was far too smart to want it.

About halfway back, he felt a slight weight on his arm and slowed down to look. A black leash dangled off the collar on his wrist. The loop was in Rodney's hand. John stared longer than a sub should. Rodney blushed. "What? You're mine, and everyone knows it now, and I've never wanted to... but... and --"

John grinned, shutting him up. "You're the only top I know who can lead from behind."

"It's your job to go in first," Rodney grumbled. John slowed down enough that they were side by side, and Teyla and Ronon disappeared ahead of them.

"You think she still respects me?" John asked.

Rodney stopped, and the leash pulled tight between them. "I never know what the hell Teyla is thinking, but I think that if she didn't, Ronon wouldn't be allowed to play with you."

Blinking, John pushed aside his horror. "Ronon and I don't play. Not ever. We spar, run, stuff like that. We don't!" He could see Rodney's disbelief so clearly. Words that would convince him clogged in John's throat. "Rodney," he managed to choke out, but he could see that it meant nothing.

Rodney shrugged and moved past him, and John was surprised when the leash actually pulled. Stumbling, with no grace at all, he followed Rodney through the long hallways, not caring where they were going. John had thought Rodney understood about the sparring and that he didn't care. Never had John imagined that Rodney believed they were fucking and was overlooking it.

They went through a door, and John realized they were in his room. He fell to his knees and crawled to Rodney. Rodney sighed and stared down at him. "You told me yourself that you play with other pairs. I thought that was your subtle way of telling me it was non-negotiable."

"No. No. No." John repeated the only word he could spit out. He slid his collared hand under Rodney's shirt to touch bare skin. "No."

"Your reliance on monosyllabic sentences to convince me of your argument concerns me." Rodney stroked his fingers through John's hair. "Stop looking like that. I believe you. Not sure why." He tightened his grip and pulled John's head back. "I wouldn't blame you if you did. They're seriously hot."

John tucked his hands behind his back. "I like you better." He could see the lingering doubt in Rodney's eyes. "You know I wouldn't lie about it."

After a moment, Rodney nodded. "Let's talk about something else. Are we getting a room together?" He waved his hand at John's quarters. "Not sure this place is big enough for both of us."

The very idea coming right on top of Rodney's assumptions about John having sex with Ronon knocked his knees about from under him, and he sat down hard on his butt. He managed to control the urge to slide under his bed, but he was pretty sure he wasn't fooling Rodney.

"Okay! That went over like a lead balloon." Rodney dropped the leash and crossed his arms. "I get it now. It took me a while, but I understand. You like me, sure, but you didn't even consider wearing my collar until Caldwell and Weir started chasing after you. You needed them off your back. I helped you out, but you don't really want... me in your life. So, just, forget all this."

Rodney was out the door before John could open his mouth, much less protest. Sitting on the floor, scrubbing at his face wasn't a solution, but it was all he had. He had no idea how he'd gone from feeling halfway good about being collared to Rodney walking out on him, and in less than two hours. It had to be a new speed record for subs.

"I am the worst sub in two galaxies." John groaned as he got to his feet. With a sigh, he tucked the loop of the leash under his belt. He might be a shitty sub, but even he knew that he didn't have the right to take off the leash. That was Rodney's job. At least until Rodney removed John's collar.

"Colonel Sheppard, please report to the gateroom. Colonel Sheppard."

He made sure the leash wouldn't drag and got moving. Rodney would have to break up with him later.

*********

Since the moment John had stepped through the wormhole into Atlantis, he'd spent part of each day in Rodney's company, one way or another. So he was certain that Rodney was avoiding him. Sure, it took time to get the latest batch of refugees relocated, but Rodney's absence at the staff meeting had even been remarked upon by Weir.

Caldwell muttered something that John didn't want to hear. Teyla focused on John's leash for a long moment but said nothing, and John couldn't tell her that he hadn't seen Rodney, at all, for two days. Two days. John didn't even try to sleep, but he'd gone to his quarters for a few hours in case Rodney showed up. He hadn't.

"John, do you have anything to add to the data burst?"

A small spurt of anger made him answer with more edge than usual. "Yes, I'd like to know why my requests for zats keep getting lost."

Caldwell raised his eyebrows. "Do you know what effect they'll have on the Wraith?"

"Not until they send me one or two!" John snapped. He wrapped his hand tightly around his collar and wished that Rodney was there to back him up.

"I'll see what I can do," Weir said in that voice that meant nothing. "Dismissed."

He made a serious break for the door, but he didn't come near making it.

"A word, John."

Turning, he didn't sit down again. That would encourage her to talk longer. "Ma'am?"

"I know your sex life is your own business." She pointed at the leash that still dangled from John's wrist. "But your position here is a unique one, and I deserve a warning if you're going to sub for Colonel Caldwell."

"That won't be happening," John growled, furious at her for even asking. "I wear Rodney's collar, and I have no intention of taking it off."

"When Rodney removes it, and he will, let me know." Her gaze went to her laptop in clear dismissal. He stiffened his spine before leaving, trying not to look as desperate as he felt on the inside. If crawling the length of Atlantis would get Rodney back, John would do it. If only it were that simple.

Carson came out of nowhere to catch up with him. "Colonel, I'd like to give you a quick checkup, if you don't mind?"

"Can't make the day any worse." John followed him into the transporter. When they emerged, Carson touched his earpiece.

"Rodney, do I have your permission to treat Colonel Shepard?" Carson asked before John could stop him.

They both heard the answer. "John's hurt? What the hell? I take my eyes off him for a few hours and he gets injured? I'm gonna kill him!"

John had to stop, lean against the wall, and laugh softly. A few hours? It'd been two days!

Carson rolled his eyes. "The man just needs a checkup. Settle down!"

Now John couldn't hear the answer, but he was sure that Rodney wasn't going to meet them in the infirmary. It wasn't until after the full body scan that Carson mentioned the leash.

"If you think wearing that will change his mind, you don't know Rodney McKay." Carson's brogue was thick.

"He put it there," John said, hating that he checked the doorway three times for Rodney, and that Carson noticed.

"You know he doesn't think that way. He won't care. It won't sway him."

"Maybe I'm not wearing it for him." John ducked his head. "Are we done?"

Carson nodded. "Would you tell me if your neck ached?"

"No." John went for the door and didn't look back. Some part of him was angry that Rodney would run right to Carson and talk about John's screwup. The rest of him was just sad that Rodney had so much material. John checked the time, saw it was lunch, but didn't bother to go eat. Watching Ronon eat and fawn over Teyla didn't sound appealing.

"You gonna eat?" Ronon rumbled, coming up from behind.

Controlling his jump of surprise, John shook his head. "Nah. Got paperwork." He shrugged. "You meeting Teyla?"

"She's ready for a mission."

John knew that meant that Ronon was getting stir crazy. "I'll go over her latest recommendations. We'll go out soon. I promise." He almost slapped Ronon on the shoulder, but it might give Ronon the wrong idea.

Ronon met John's eyes. "I'll tell Rodney we aren't fucking."

"Don't bother." John shoved his hands in his pockets, feeling the tug of the leash. Maybe he was being ridiculous, but it was his time to waste, and at least Caldwell wasn't hitting on him. His office was its usual neat self, and he went to stare off the small balcony instead of working. Leaning on the rail, the leash pulled, and he released it from his belt to let it dangle over the edge. Of course he was being an idiot to still wear it.

Even he'd heard the rumor that he was pining and Rodney was a complete bastard for leashing him and then leaving him to rot. That was the nice rumor. There was another rumor that the leash was Rodney's way of telling Caldwell and Weir to suck it. John saw a large wave crest over the pier and smiled at how stupid people could be. The leash meant nothing, except that John wasn't able to let go yet. He'd never been good at letting go.

Ducking his head, he rested on his hands. Fatigue pulled at him, but he wasn't going to bother trying to sleep now, maybe tomorrow. Straightening up, he went to his desk and started the latest round of paperwork. Caldwell would want every scrap of it before he left.

"Sir?"

John didn't look up from his tablet. "Major, I'm starting to get nervous whenever I see you. Bad news, for me, seems to follow you around."

Lorne slumped down in the lone chair opposite John's desk. "Those refugees, they were..."

"Awful," John finished for him. "But, and I'm not joking here, those people were some of the luckier ones we've seen." He nodded at Lorne's slack jaw. "There was no hive ship in orbit so casualties were kept to a minimum."

"But the kids." Lorne gulped.

Forestalling the rest of it that he knew by heart and saw in his nightmares, John raised his hand. "They survived. There were no true orphans. Not like..." He stopped, seeing that Lorne couldn't handle that gory story today. "Life in this galaxy mostly sucks. They know that from their first steps."

"But, we --" Lorne rubbed his face hard. "We do what we can to help. Right?"

"Right." John seized the opportunity to bring Lorne into the fold. "We're all they have. The only people capable of helping at all. We have to stay strong, even when it hurts like all hell."

"I thought it was stupid having a sub in charge of Atlantis." Lorne hung his head, not looking at him.

"And you were probably right." John would admit to the same line of thinking once or twice. "So?"

"So I was wrong." Lorne slapped his thighs and got to his feet. "How can I help?"

John stood and stuck out his hand. "Welcome to Atlantis." He meant it now, and he had some hope that Lorne would work out fine.

Lorne shook John's hand. "Glad to be here."

"Get with Teyla and see if she's gotten any intel from our refugees." John wanted to curse when his door slid open to reveal Rodney, but he kept a neutral expression on his face. "And then make sure the new armory is more organized than when I left it."

"Will do." Lorne nodded as he left. "Dr. McKay."

"Lauren." Rodney glanced back out the door, and John fully expected him to turn and leave.

"His name is Lorne," John drawled, sitting back down and waiting for Rodney to make a break for it. "Which I'm sure you know."

"When's the last time you ate?" Rodney snapped his fingers three times. "Come on. Answer me!"

"What?" John sat up very straight, stunned by the onslaught. "This morning!" he lied.

"You did not! I watched the security feed!" Rodney yelled right back at him. "And sleep? Do you even know what that is any longer?"

Against his will, John began to get angry. He wasn't the one who had walked away. "I waited for you last night!"

"You should've tried sleeping!" Rodney raged, clearly furious. "You're wearing that collar out of convenience, not because you actually want someone to top you! So take care of yourself! That means you have to eat and sleep, you moron!"

Blinking, John's anger cracked in half to reveal the despair he wanted to hide. His shame forced him up and towards the door, and if he walked back to Earth, he didn't think anyone would blame him. The door opened, and John tried to leave, he did, but his arm wasn't leaving with him.

Rodney came up behind him and shut the door. "Kneel, please."

The words were soft enough to send John down hard, and he arranged himself in the most perfect submissive position he knew, but he refused to look up and watch Rodney remove the collar.

John made a fist and kept his arm up, rock steady. Keeping his head down hurt, but he wasn't going to break. Rodney took him by the fist.

"You make me crazy!"

Now, John snapped his head up. "Me? You're the one who's insane! I took your collar because I wanted it! No other damn reason!"

"You'd have never if Caldwell hadn't tried to collar you first!"

"I was wearing it when he asked! And Ronon? Please! Teyla would kill me if I touched her sub!"

"But..." Rodney looked confused. "You..." He frowned. "You don't want to move in with me!"

It was easy to hear the triumph in Rodney's voice, as if he'd won the argument. John used his collared hand to grab Rodney by the shirt. "You never gave me a chance to answer! Yes, I do! Well, I did!"

"You do? But..." Rodney trailed off again. "You don't anymore."

"Do you blame me?" John turned him loose.

It was unfortunate that the door whooshed opened at that exact moment. By sheer dint of will, John stayed on his knees. He had to remember to lock that door in the future.

"Rodney," Weir said smoothly.

"Elizabeth," Rodney ground out.

John had his back to the door, but he could picture the expression on her face. Smug. Very smug.

"Are you two finished here?"

It was easy to see Rodney turn stubborn. "In a way, yes. Oh, get that predatory look off your face. I need bigger quarters. Sheppard, whether he likes it or not, is moving in with me."

"You haven't spoken to him in two days, Rodney."

Those blue eyes narrowed. "I was busy keeping us alive! It doesn't matter if I haven't seen him for six months, he'll still be mine!"

A rush of pleasure surged through him, and John nestled his face onto Rodney's thigh. He stopped holding his breath and smiled. "Yeah, I will be," he said.

"Then get up off the floor and find us new quarters," Rodney snapped, curling his hand into John's hair. "Did you need something, Elizabeth, or did you just come in here to stare at John's ass, which happens to be mine?"

The sound of the door shutting was a relief. John eased up and kissed Rodney on the mouth. "I'll find us a place to live."

Rodney snapped off the leash, rolled it up, and put it in his pocket. "You make all the subs swoon with your loyalty. Stop it."

"Yes, sir." John wanted to tuck himself inside Rodney's pocket. "Want a balcony?"

"Of course." Rodney huffed out a big breath. "I was an idiot, okay?"

"Okay." John edged closer, glad when Rodney held him.

"You could have them, and they're --"

"Not you, and I want you," John finished for him. Rodney kissed John's neck, making him shiver. The kiss was followed by a head slap that was gentle. John still glared. "Ow."

"Food! Now!"

The leash came back out, and John let himself be dragged because Rodney enjoyed it to the mess hall. They ate sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, with Rodney feeding him the occasional bite, and by the end of the meal, he was sure that they were going to be fine.

"I'm still a terrible sub." John tapped the collar on his wrist.

Rodney leaned and kissed him. "Yeah, well, I'm an awful top, so we're well-matched. You done eating? I need sex."

"We can do that."

********  
end


End file.
